The Lewis House 99 страница

Clearly incapable of any other response, Mrs. Granger lay entirely still. She could only blink her eyes again, sending tears coursing down her temples. But she was awake. She was cognizant and crying. She knew Hermione again.

The sight of mother and daughter reunited was so powerful that Harry had to look away, both to give his friend her privacy and to fight down his own emotions. He looked at Ginny, whose eyes were trained on Mr. Granger. It was difficult to hear her through Hermione’s sobs, but she seemed to be talking to him now, trying to do for him what Hermione had done for her mother. It was not proving to be as successful, and Harry wondered if they would have to wait for Hermione’s first wave of shock to subside, so that she would be able to wake up her father as well.

But Ginny seemed to have other ideas. "Ron," she said softly, looking up from Mr. Granger for a moment. "Let Hermione stay where she is. Can you help me?"

Ron looked unwilling to leave Hermione, but he walked around to Mr. Granger’s bedside at his sister’s request. "What do you need me to do?"

Ginny kept her hands where they were. "Talk to him. Talk about Hermione."

Ron gulped and looked down at Hermione’s unconscious father, clearly not convinced that this was the best idea. But he glanced behind him at Hermione, who was too transported by relief to recognize what was happening, and the sight seemed to bolster his courage. "Okay..." he began slowly. "Mr. Granger, your daughter..." He hesitated. When he spoke again, his voice seemed to have dropped an octave - Harry could hardly hear him at all.

"Your daughter misses you," Ron said quietly. "She’s been coming here for two and a half years to take care of you. She’s done a fantastic job, too - she had to go on a crusade to get you admitted to St. Mungo’s, since you’re Muggles and all. But she knew this was where you’d get taken care of and you know how she is. Once she gets a mission in her head she turns into a raving lunatic until it..." Ron trailed off and turned red. "Not that, you know, that’s a bad thing. Because I don’t think she’s mad, I just make fun of her a little - well, not make fun of her, exactly - oh, hell, never mind."

Harry marveled that even in a situation such as this, Ron could make him want to laugh out loud. But he didn’t. He had never seen his best friend quite so vulnerable as this, and something prevented him from laughing as Ron forced himself to continue.

"So... your daughter." Ron cleared his throat. "Well, she finished school, you know. Top of our class by a mile. Clever… is an understatement. She built the spell that brought down Voldemort. She built the spell that helped heal you. You’d be proud of her, I’m sure. I am. She’s an incredible..." Ron faltered and his ears went pink. He shook his head. "I can’t do this," he muttered to Ginny. "What am I supposed to say about her to her dad?"

"You’re doing it, he’s so close..." she whispered back. "Just a bit longer."

Ron looked pained, and cast around for something else to say. Finally, he settled on, "I don’t know how much you know about Quidditch, but the Chudley Cannons are having their first decent season in a hundred and six years, and if you’re going to wake up, sir, I’m telling you, now’s the time."

An odd, dry breath escaped Mr. Granger’s lips.

Ginny withdrew her hands from her patient’s head and heart, and looked down at him in awe. "He’s laughing," she breathed to Ron. "I think you’ve made him laugh. Mr. Granger, if you can hear me, respond to me now."

Hermione’s father moved his mouth, just barely. But it was enough.

"He can hear you," Ron said wonderingly, then whirled around to see that Hermione was still on the floor, eyes shut, breathing shallowly against her mother. She looked to have fallen asleep, or perhaps she was simply in shock, and she didn’t seem to hear Ron at all. "Hermione - it’s your dad. He's awake." Ron made a move as if to help her up, then turned back to Ginny. "Back up a minute," he ordered, raising his wand and backing away himself. Deftly he flew Mr. Granger’s bed sideways so that it aligned with his wife’s. Only then did Ron step around the bed to lift Hermione up. "Your dad's awake," he repeated, so that she could hear him. And then he reached across Mrs. Granger and settled Hermione in bed, between her parents. "So she can have them both," Ron said, more to himself than anyone else.

Harry watched as Hermione broke down in tears again, this time against her father’s shoulder, while she clutched her mother’s hand. Ron positioned himself by the bed like a guard, as if he would ward off any evil that might attempt to disrupt the Grangers.

Ginny watched them for a moment, and though her shoulders sagged, her eyes were bright. She dropped her head and rubbed her eyes again, wearily. "They’re going to need to be moved to another wing," she said, somewhat incoherently, and certainly to herself. "They’ll need their muscles exercised, and I don’t know how to do that." Her hand fell to her side and she walked past Harry into the hall, seeming unaware of her surroundings.

Remus stopped her before she could go very far. "Sit down. I’ll find the mediwizards who need to be told. You rest." And before Ginny could protest, he had turned and disappeared down the long corridor.

Left standing in the hall, Ginny looked from side to side as if confused as to what she should be doing next. "I need to go home," she said to no one. "I need a Floo port." She swayed slightly, and steadied herself on the wall. "I'm knackered."

Harry thought she might fall to the floor, and he stepped forward quickly to sling an arm under her shoulders before it could happen. Ginny turned her head and stared at him. Her eyes were just inches away.

"Hi, Harry." She gave an exhausted laugh.

Harry looked at her. He wanted to tell her that she had done an incredible thing, but for some reason the words wouldn’t come.

Ginny's forehead fell softly forward onto his shoulder; she leaned on him, and suddenly the arm he was using to support her became extremely sensitive. When her breath touched his throat, the hairs stood up on the back of his neck. He pulled her close and held her up.

She spoke without lifting her head. "Help me home," she said, her voice low and muffled. "Please."

Harry supported her to the hospital's Floo portals and steered her into an empty one. "You have to keep your arms by your sides," he reminded her. "And you have to get out at Remus's grate. Can you do that?"

Ginny straightened slightly. "Yes." She was hardly audible.

"Definitely?"

"Yes."

"I'm right behind you," Harry told her, and threw a pinch of Floo powder into the flames. He guided her into the mouth of the fireplace and watched her disappear, anxiety clawing at his heart. He was quick to follow, and when he Apparated into the front room at Lupin Lodge he was both alarmed and relieved to see Ginny lying on the carpet in a heap. At least she had managed to get home. He knelt down and hefted her into his arms - not an easy task, as she was nearly his own weight.

"You don't have to." Her head lolled against his shoulder. "Don't carry me." He picked her up in spite of her protest and made slow progress towards the stairs. One of her hands played idly with his collar as he walked, and her breath came in long, slow pulls. Harry put his foot on the first step and shifted her body, to balance her better. "Thank you," Ginny sighed, into his robes. She let out a strange laugh. "I think I'd cry if I wasn't so tired," she said, and laughed again.

Harry studied her face - she was delirious - and continued to climb the steps, holding her close. He elbowed her bedroom door open, carried her to the bed, and gently put her down. Without pausing to wonder if he ought to do it, he reached for her feet and removed her shoes and socks, then unbuttoned her robes. Though she was wearing very little underneath them, he didn't pause to gape - much. He knew where her nightclothes were, and he got her into them. Ginny was limp and silent, though she did continue to laugh shortly at intervals as Harry dressed her. He did it as quickly and as gently as he could, then pulled her covers up and stroked her hair away from her face, his heart beating hard.

Ginny sighed and leaned into his hand. "Don't leave," she murmured. "Stay with me." Her eyes were closed, but her hands felt for his sleeves, and she tugged weakly at them.

"What…" Harry swallowed. "What about Hermione?"

"She never sleeps here anymore… please, Harry, I miss you."

It was as if they had never fought. Harry kicked off his shoes and crawled into her bed, curling behind her body as if it were the night they had first kissed. He put his arm around her waist to pull her close, took a deep breath and smelled the warmth and sweat of her.

"You woke them up," he muttered into her hair. "You were fantastic - what you gave Hermione is..." He stopped. He couldn't imagine what Hermione must feel upon having her parents restored to her, though he had imagined it a thousand times for himself. There was no way to know what that was like.

Ginny's breath hitched; she rolled towards him and, to his surprise, she awkwardly flung her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. "I wish you could have that," she said hotly, and Harry could hear the tears in her voice. "You're the one I want to do that for."

His chest burned, and he had to hold his breath for a moment to keep his emotions in check. "It's all right," he whispered, putting his arms around her and rocking her a little, shutting his eyes. He had lately felt hollow, and he knew it was her absence causing the trouble. He craved a wholeness that only came with having her close. Just like this.

Ginny's sniffling stopped after awhile, and her breath grew soft and shallow. Harry couldn't see her eyes, but he could tell, by the way she had relaxed, that she had fallen asleep. He waited several minutes, and then carefully rolled away from her - she winced, in her sleep. When Harry drew back from her, the line between her eyebrows deepened, as if she had a headache.

It was odd, Harry thought, that she should look ill now that he had let go of her. Usually it was his touch that caused the problem - she was especially sensitive when she was open to emotion, and she must have been very open after the work she had just done. But as he cautiously stood up, taking care not to disturb her sleep, Ginny grew pale and her frown lines became deep.

"It's all right," Harry whispered, and bent over her to stroke her face. To his amazement, as he ran his thumb back and forth across Ginny's cheekbone, the tension seemed to drain from her. Her brow relaxed a little, and she took a deep, sleepy breath that ended in a sigh.

He wasn't hurting her. In fact, he seemed to be having the opposite effect.

A thrill of hope ran through Harry. Needing to test his discovery and make sure that he was right, he immediately bent down and brought his lips to Ginny's forehead, then drew back to see the effects. She breathed out another sigh and her frown disappeared completely.

Harry felt a rush of nearly uncontainable happiness. Relief flooded him. He could hardly stand to let Ginny sleep; he wanted to show her what was possible, wanted her to see that she had done it - he could touch her without causing her any pain, even when she wasn't trying to block him. But he couldn't bear to shake her awake. She looked quiet and peaceful, and he knew she was exhausted.

Harry removed his glasses and put them on her bedside table along with his wand. Carefully, he got into Ginny's bed and curled up beside her. He gingerly laid his arm across her stomach, releasing the tension in his muscles slowly so that all of the weight in his arm wouldn't fall on her at once. She didn't wake up.

A minute later, he was fast asleep.

~*~

Ginny lay on her stomach on the rough, dark stones, her legs leaden, her eyes shutting against her will. Tired. She had never been so tired; she knew she had to fight, but there was nothing left. She reached down into the depths of her will, searching for any remaining scrap of strength, and she barely opened her eyes. She would not die. Not here. Not like this, not for him. He couldn't have her - but she was so cold and his voice was so strong, telling her what to think, what to write, making her know she had lost, forcing her fingers across the page to make words that were not her own.

Goodbye, Riddle.

Ginny began to cry. She slumped, and her nose and forehead touched the stones. Her breath wouldn't come - she was choking - panic rose up in her but she was paralyzed against it. She could not thrash or scream; there was no struggle left in her body. Her lungs were his. He'd stopped them, and she would suffocate here, in the darkness of herself, with no one to help her. The wet, gray stones blurred out and her eyelids slid irrevocably shut.

Then blackness - merciless blackness - darker than just shutting her eyes, darker than pitch dark castle rooms, darker than dungeon chambers. Shutting out life. Against it, images flickered like photographs. The Burrow. Her family. Harry. And all the while Riddle's body rose from her as if it had always been in her, pulling her consciousness away, splitting her apart, stealing her heartbeat for himself… there would be nothing else now… and she would never know if he hurt Harry… not Harry… please not Harry…

"Ginny. Ginny, you have to wake up."

Ginny gasped and jerked. Someone had her by the waist. She struggled, but the arm held fast and she moaned in terror.

"No, it's me, you're all right, it's a nightmare, you're safe - wake up. Come on, Ginny, it's me. It's Harry."

Harry. He was here, just as he'd been the first time. Only now he was wrapped around her, now his voice was just behind her ear, and Ginny rolled toward him without thinking, wanting rescue. She flung her arm over him and clutched him close, pressing her face into his robes and realizing that her cheeks were uncomfortably wet. She'd been crying. Probably talking. Begging for his life - she knew she did that. She had made Hermione repeat it to her once.

Harry very gently rubbed her back. It felt unreal. It couldn't be real. "Are you awake?" he murmured.

She nodded and clung tighter, not sure how old she was, or what was happening. For a long time they didn't speak, and Ginny slowly regained her breath and heartbeat as she catalogued her surroundings. It was very early; and the light in the room was dim and blue, but it was light from outside. This was not the Chamber. Riddle was long gone. His conqueror was right here, protecting her even from the dream of him. Harry was here. Harry was safe. Harry was tracing her back between her shoulder blades with tender fingertips. They were together and the world made sense and…

He must have stayed the night. Ginny couldn't remember how any of it had happened. She remembered Mrs. Granger's eyes opening… she remembered Hermione lying between her parents in their beds, and she remembered… nothing after that.

Ginny withdrew her arm, rolled onto her back, and stared up into Harry's face. He propped himself up and looked down at her. He wasn't wearing his glasses, and there was something small and frightened in his eyes.

"I'm okay," Ginny said. Her voice was croaky with sleep and tears and she wiped at her face. "I just haven't had one that bad in a while."

Harry looked grim, and somewhat disappointed. "Is it because I'm here?" he asked.

"No," Ginny said on reflex, not wanting him to leave her no matter how awful she felt. But slowly… very slowly… she realized that it was not a lie. "No, it's not you, I feel…" She frowned and searched herself. She felt exhausted and open. Very open. And she hadn't been awake long enough to think of separating his energy from hers. Harry's aura flowed into her and around her and she could have evaluated it if she wished to.

And it didn't hurt.

She gazed up at him, amazed. She knew she had to be wrong. Any moment now, the flood of Harry's real emotions would strike her and she would be unable to stay with him like this. She lay there for a long time, as open as she could be, and waited for his presence to make her ill.

"You're not hurting me," she whispered, when she was sure. The air was calm and workable. She wasn't trying to block him - she had simply become strong enough to withstand him. She had never expected it to happen so soon. "You're not hurting me at all."

Harry sighed out as if he'd been holding his breath for a long time. "Really?"

She nodded, and Harry squinted at her a little, obviously trying to make out her reaction. Ginny reached to the bedside cabinet without thinking, and fumbled for his glasses, which she knew would be there. When she found them, she unfolded them in her fingers and carefully fitted them to his face. She tucked them behind his ears, growing very warm when his eyes focused on her with all their green intensity. She pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose with an index finger, the way she had watched him do a million times, and then she dropped her hand to her throat.

He was so beautiful.

Harry gazed at her for a moment, then balanced on one elbow and dragged the pad of his thumb across her cheek, wiping away the last of the wetness beneath her eyes. Ginny lay still and breathed, letting him comfort her. It was hard to believe that it was happening. He opened his mouth - hesitated -

"I have something to tell you," he said abruptly.

Ginny blinked up at him, her heart already beating irregularly. She didn't dare hope. She still wasn't sure how he'd ended up here, or what they'd said, or whether they were fighting. She didn't think they were. She couldn't remember how she had gone so long without having him close like this, and she never wanted to try it again. "All right."

"I've been wanting to say it." He shifted awkwardly and looked at the pillow, instead of at her face. "It's hard," he said, very faintly. For a while it seemed that he wasn't going to manage anything else, and then he suddenly reached into his pocket and withdrew a crumpled bit of parchment, gripping it in his fingers.

"What's that?" Ginny whispered.

Harry was very red. "A letter I wrote."

"To me?"

He nodded again and his knuckles whitened. Apparently he was in no hurry to hand it over.

"Can I… see it?"

It all happened very fast. Harry shoved the note into Ginny's hand and collapsed onto his stomach, burying his face in her arm and breast. Ginny dropped the parchment onto the bed and stroked his messy hair, sifting it in her fingers. It was rather dirty. She didn't care.

"It's all right," she said quietly.

"Did you read it?" His voice was muffled and agonized.

He was so cute.

"Hold on a minute." Ginny took her hand out of his hair, picked up the parchment and worked to unfold it. It took a while, as Harry had her other hand pinned under his body, but she managed to get the letter open and hold it up.

Dear Ginny,

Happy birthday. I got you a present, but it wasn't very good.

You're amazing. I miss you. I'm sorry I shouted at you. Don't give up on me.

I am here.

Love,

Harry

Ginny's eyes filled with tears. "Oh - Harry." The words were choked. She dropped the letter and pulled her other arm from underneath him, to lift his head in both her hands. He looked terrified and lost.

"Was that okay?" he asked. "I know it's short -"

"It's beautiful." Ginny shut her mouth and shook her head. "You wrote that on my birthday?" she said shakily. "Have you been carrying it around?"

"Yeah." Harry shifted up until his cheek was next to hers, and he wrapped his arms around her. She hugged him back, rolling over a bit so that they lay on their sides, holding onto each other for dear life, surrounded by energy that felt like radiant light. Ginny didn't know what to make of the aura, and at first she tried to block it - if it was Harry's then it was not her right to be inside it without permission, no matter how lovely it felt. But she couldn't separate herself from it. It wasn't his at all, she realized in surprise - and it wasn't hers either, but that didn't make sense. Ginny lay still and absorbed it until she understood.

It was theirs, this energy. It was what they made… together. It surged and intertwined, warm and cool, deep and endless, enveloping them. Ginny could feel it on her skin, a faint, perfect vibration that was not physical… and yet it was. It was magnetic; it hummed between their bodies, drawing them closer together. It was like… a climate. Their own weather, their own world. Ginny closed her eyes and tightened her arms around Harry, amazed - this was what they were to each other. This beautiful, unbearable sense of rightness belonged to them. Perhaps it had been there all along, and she had been too foolish to realize it.

"Are we all right now?" he asked, after a long time.

Ginny gave a strange, breathless laugh, and nodded. All right? She was beyond it. She was in love.

Harry rolled onto his back and brought her with him; she rested her forearms on his chest and gazed back down at him. His face was blurry.

"You're crying." He sounded worried.

Ginny lowered her face a fraction and touched her nose to his, reassuring him that the tears were only good. She didn't have a voice to tell him with. And then she had nothing at all - she had left the world - because Harry had lifted his chin and he was kissing her with such gentleness that she wasn't sure she could endure it; it was like coming up for air. For sunlight. His lips opened hers - her heart was breaking - his mouth was so familiar and so necessary that Ginny suddenly felt afraid. What had she been thinking, pulling away from him? She needed him. They belonged to each other. She wasn't sure what had made her doubt it.

"I can't lose you," she mumbled suddenly, breaking away. "I was lying when I said it was all right if you don't love me - it's not all right." She opened her eyes and looked into his - they were right there. And so green. So quiet and waiting. "I don't want to fight with you ever again," she whispered. "I've been so stupid. We've had enough problems. We should know… we should know we have each other, no matter what else is wrong in the world."

Harry lay motionless beneath her and held her gaze.

"And you do have me," she said, as a sob rose up in her chest. "I hope I didn't make you doubt it - you've always had me - always." She wanted to look away. It was hard to continue when his eyes went fierce like that. "I'll never give up on you, all right?" she finally managed. "I'm not going anywhere. Don't give up on me."

Harry had stayed completely still throughout her speech. But with her last words, and without warning, his chest hitched, and he pulled her down on top of him to hold her close, his face in her neck, the lenses of his glasses pressing her skin. And then he mumbled something almost incoherent that pierced her body and stopped her heart.

"I've - I've never said that before." He was shaking like mad.

Ginny couldn't imagine it. Never once…? In all the times she had thought about Harry, it hadn't occurred to her that he never would have said it… But of course he hadn't said it, of course there had been no person - perhaps Ron or Hermione, but he never would have said it.

He had given it to her.

"I love you," she whispered back, unable to think coherently. How brutal and empty his life had been - not in all ways, but in some of the fundamentals - and that deprivation had touched him more profoundly than even she had ever considered. But it would never be like that again. Never. She would see to that. She raised her head and leaned her forehead to his, determined to make him know it. "I love you so much, Harry."

She didn't know how many times she said it after that - enough times that it should have lost its meaning - but he seemed to need to hear it. Every time the words escaped her she felt his energy shiver. Ecstatic. So she said it to his neck and his shoulder and his temple; she said it into his hair and into his ear, and she said it to his beautiful eyes, lifting his glasses to kiss his eyelids with all the wonder she'd felt forever. She wanted to fill him with it, to make him believe it in every pore and every thought so that he wouldn't have to wonder. Love. It was all she could concentrate on. It burst out of her like light and it was all his, and it always had been, but she had been afraid of it. It was so total. It took up so much of her. She would never hold it back again.

She wasn't sure how long it took for Harry to open his eyes and gaze up at her. As soon as he did, he rolled her onto her back, and Ginny lay pressed beneath him, trying to wrap one of her legs around his to pull him closer as he bent and brushed his lips across hers, making her whole body jump.

It was a moment before she realized that she couldn't use her legs at all - they were confined. She was wearing a nightdress that had got rather tangled up, what with all the rolling.

She couldn't remember putting it on.

"Harry?" she breathed against his mouth.

"Mm." He brushed another soft kiss along her top lip and Ginny nearly forgot her question.

"Did you put me in this nightdress?"

Harry went still. His mouth moved away and his very hot cheek slid alongside hers.

"Did you change my clothes?" she asked again, when he stayed silent.

"Are you angry?" he asked. His voice was very low.

Ginny shivered all over. He'd changed her - he'd seen her naked - or almost naked. She shifted a little, trying to feel if he had all of her underclothes in place. When she realized that he had, she smiled against his neck. He was so shy. So decent. And she was glad of it - she wouldn't have wanted to be unconscious for that, but… still. How very Harry.

"No, I'm not angry," she said, feeling a bit bashful. She kissed the spot just below his ear. "It was… really sweet of you."

"I -" his voice was dry. "I thought you'd be more comfortable if -"

"I am," she assured him. "I am." She rubbed the back of his neck; he was tense and embarrassed. She moved her fingers down between his shoulder blades and rubbed the muscles there, deepening her touch to find the spots where he ached the most. Harry let out a long, slow breath, and she began to use her other hand as well, feeling out the tension in his back and trying to ease it. He made a muffled sound of pleasure.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04