The Lewis House 112 страница

She was right. Harry looked up and watched as the dense clouds parted - barely - and allowed sunlight to penetrate the gloom. Huge, white-gold shafts of it fell through the gray sky and touched the sea like windows. Like gentle fingers, brushing the spot where Azkaban had been only moments ago. Harry imagined that the shafts were the same white-gold as the innocent soul he had watched escape. He imagined it was the same as the star that Adam had made - the star that had pulsed and breathed and made him think of Dumbledore.

The sunlight touched all of them where they hovered over the moving water, lighting the hollows of their tired faces and making them all seem to shine. Harry looked again at Sirius, whose eyes were fixed on the light. So were Remus’s - and his expression was nearly an echo of Sirius’s own, as if the destruction of Azkaban meant almost as much to him.

The fingers of light suddenly retracted. The clouds fused together and boiled for another storm; the sea rolled darkly, and the wind was picking up now, blowing cold on all of them. Sirius’s eyes were still fixed on the absence of Azkaban, and though Harry could tell that no one else wanted to disturb him, it was time to go in.

"Sirius," he said gently, bringing his godfather’s attention away from the empty sea. Sirius turned to look at him, nodded, then cast his eyes up into the darkening sky. He gave a long, contented sigh before bringing his chin down again.

"It’s time, Padfoot," Remus said quietly. "Are you ready?"

Sirius laughed softly and threw his hair out of his face. "Yes, Moony. I am." He pulled back on the handles of his bike and turned it to shore, leaning well back in his seat so that the wind hit him fully in the face. Harry saw his black hair fly back as Remus looked on, smiling. And then, without further ado, Sirius led them all toward the shore with Remus by his side.

Everyone followed. The Aurors flew past, and then the Enforcers - Seamus Finnigan looked haggard but he managed a wave and a grin.

"Time to hit the pub!" he shouted.

"See you there!" Ron shouted back.

"Oh no you won't," Hermione said quietly, patting his leg. "We all need sleep."

Sleep. Harry watched the rest of the wizards and witches pass them. He watched as the prison raft sped inland over the water. And he realized just how much he wanted his bed. A bath, and his bed. He was cold and wet and… wanting something.

As if she knew it, Ginny rubbed his knees and leaned back against him. "Come on, Harry," she murmured. "Let's go home."

Home. He wasn't sure where that was, exactly, but he followed her urging and aimed for the shore. Beside Ron and Hermione they flew back to the dragon camp, and Harry felt almost as though he were playing Quidditch. He was in the sky - which was his favorite place to be. He was with his friends - who were the best people in the world to be around. And his work here was finished. He never had to come back here - never had to put on dragon riding gear again - never had to come near a Dementor, because there weren't any Dementors. None. Never again would they come close to him and thrust him into his terrible past. Never again would he hear his father. His mother.

Never.

Something hot and uncomfortable welled up, deep in his chest. Harry didn't know if he was relieved… or if he had been deprived of his only real - albeit terrible - connection to two people he loved, whom he had never known.

"Harry?" Ginny asked softly, turning so that no one else could hear her. "Are you all right?"

He couldn't answer. He wasn't all right. And the thing he was wanting wasn't anything that she could give him - he didn't know why. Lately Ginny had been the answer to everything - and if she wasn't, then Ron and Hermione were. But that wasn't the case either, and Harry wasn't sure what to make of the clenching sensation in his throat.

As they closed in on the shoreline, Harry saw the hospital raft being pulled up onto the sand. He watched as Narcissa Malfoy, her face a brittle mask, pushed mediwizards aside, stumbled onto the raft, and fell to her knees beside her son. Harry watched as George and Angelina walked off the raft with Fred between them. He saw Mrs. Weasley hand Leo to Penny and race down the shore towards them - saw her envelop Fred in her arms and rock him from side to side for a long time. Harry couldn't hear what she was saying, but he knew what she meant.

Mrs. Weasley moved onto George next, and then to Angelina. Bill landed immediately afterward with Fleur right beside him, and Mrs. Weasley launched herself at each of them in turn, managing to smooth Bill's ponytail and tug it over his shoulder as he pulled away. Harry was almost certain that she was telling him to cut it.

Charlie was the next one to touch down. His mother wrapped him in a massive hug, and then grabbed Cho into her arms and hugged her too, though Cho looked a bit embarrassed and unsure about where to put her hands.

Mr. Weasley landed, with Adam alongside him. Mrs. Weasley put her hands on her hips and opened her mouth so wide that, although Harry couldn't hear her, he knew that Adam most certainly could. And then Adam was drawn into a hug so fierce that Harry was sure that he couldn't breathe. And that he didn't mind.

When Mrs. Weasley let him go, she reached for her husband and he clasped her to his heart.

Harry couldn't tear his eyes away. It was a reunion - and they had only been apart for a few hours. But the relief and love on Mrs. Weasley's face spoke of terrible anxiety and awful pain - even if it had been imagined pain. She buried her face in the front of his robes and clutched him tight around his back, and Harry felt a funny surge of déjà vu. He could have sworn he'd seen people hold each other just like that before… but he couldn't remember whom. Or where.

Mrs. Weasley only let go of her husband when the rest of them landed on the rocks. She looked up with dim, tearful eyes as Ron and Hermione untangled themselves from their double broom. She collected Hermione into her arms first, gave her a swift kiss on the cheek, and then held her arms out to Ron, who walked into them and held her for a long time.

While Ron hugged his mother, Harry landed on the sand. His feet and Ginny's hit the ground at the same time and there was a soft bump between their bodies - Ginny steadied herself, bracing her hands on the broom handle. She swung her leg over the broom and stood beside Harry as he dismounted.

Thunder cracked. Harry glanced up at the sky, which had gone completely dark again. He gazed back out over the sea where there was… nothing left.

"Oh - Ginny -"

Harry turned back to the shore. Mrs. Weasley had opened her arms to Ginny, and Ginny all but fell into them. Harry watched as Mrs. Weasley smoothed Ginny's hair again and again. She kissed her daughter's temple and the crown of her head - she rubbed her back and then wrapped her arms around her and squeezed her close.

Harry wondered how Ginny felt. Really felt. Having that.

"Harry, dear - oh -"

Before he could think further, Mrs. Weasley had let go of Ginny and surrounded him with her arms. Harry felt her kiss his cheek. Heard her declare, in a weepy voice, that he was a wonderful, wonderful boy and that she loved him.

Loved him.

Harry reached out his arms and held onto the welcoming, all-encompassing warmth of Mrs. Weasley. He didn't mind that the sky had cracked open and that the rain was soaking him. He didn't mind that everyone he cared about was watching him.

Harry closed his eyes and clung.

Chapter Forty-Three

The Finals

~*~

A/N: Thank you, CoKerry and Firelocks, for staying up late to beta-read this. You are princess people. And thanks to Dr. Aicha for looking it over at the very end.

~*~

Ginny stirred. Her eyes were closed, but she could tell that the room was already bright - she had slept in, on a school day. She wasn't worried; she had a feeling that after what had happened yesterday, Remus wouldn't be a stickler about starting lessons on time, if he started them at all. He was probably still sleeping too. Or, if he was awake, then he was probably trying to comprehend what had happened.

Azkaban was gone.

Ginny felt a surge of powerful joy. She stretched completely, enjoying the languorous pull of aching muscles - enjoying the way her body hit up against Harry's in the bed, when she moved. She felt another surge of happiness when she rolled onto her side and found a comfortable place on his hot shoulder to rest her head. She smoothed a hand across his bare chest and left it there. She slung her leg across him.

He touched her hair.

"You're awake," she mumbled.

Harry pushed his fingers further into her hair and rubbed her scalp in reply. It felt brilliant. It was brilliant, waking up beside Harry. Beside Harry, who didn't have to be anywhere. Who didn't have a duty in the world. Who was just hers, all day - and all night too, if she wanted.

She did want.

She curled tighter to him and kissed his shoulder… breathed in the solid warmth of him… grazed her fingertips back and forth over his chest… felt him shift closer to her and release a long, slow breath. She had wanted more, last night - and so had he - than either of them had had the energy to give. Harry hadn't even had the energy to be shy; he hadn't asked for permission to come over, or waited for an invitation. He had simply Apparated into her room in the middle of the night and crawled into bed beside her, giving her a delicious shock. His shirt had come off almost at once, and they had twined together and kissed in the darkness until they had been too deliriously tired to continue.

Ginny was so caught up in remembering the loveliness of it, so lost in her own happy energy, that it took her longer than usual to notice that Harry's was… not as happy. Not at all. His body was warm and radiant, but there was a faint, distant chill in the air around him.

Perturbed, Ginny lifted her head slightly and studied his face.

He was staring at the ceiling. He couldn't be looking at anything in particular - he didn't have his glasses on and there wasn't anything there to begin with. But he was staring with strange focus, and then, as if he didn't want to be noticed doing it, he closed his eyes and turned his face away.

"Harry?" Ginny asked, her voice croaky with sleep. She picked herself up a bit more and propped herself on her elbow. "Is everything all right?"

She could only make out the edge of his profile; she couldn't be sure of his expression. But she knew that something was bothering him very much, and that he was trying to keep her from noticing. He should have known that was impossible.

"What is it?" Ginny pressed. "What's wrong?"

Harry stayed silent. He took hold of the hand she had rested on his chest, and he rolled away from her, bringing her with him until she was spooned around his back, her arm around him, her hand in his, her leg still slung over his hip.

He wanted comfort.

Ginny nuzzled the back of Harry's neck, still shocked, in many ways, that she was allowed to do it. For years she had craved the right to hold him close to her heart and give them both this kind of relief, but it had seemed like a pipe dream for so long that she had almost learned to content herself with just the fantasy of Harry. She wondered if she would ever get used to the fact that he was with her this way, and that he wanted her like this, and that he needed her to ease him.

"Can't you tell me what you're thinking about?" she asked quietly. "Please, I want to know."

Harry shifted back against her. "It's morbid," he mumbled. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Nothing's wrong with you." Ginny found his heartbeat with her hand and lay her palm over it. His heart pulsed quickly in his chest. "You can tell me anything - I won't think you're strange. Whatever you're thinking, I've probably thought it myself."

Harry hesitated. "It's just… that girl. The Auror who died yesterday."

"Moody said her name was Leda Barnes."

Harry nodded. "I was having a nightmare about her," he said faintly. "She was… screaming for help. And if I'd just gone a little faster, I know I could have done something about it."

"You could have done something about it where?" Ginny asked. "In the dream? Or yesterday, at Azkaban?"

Harry shrugged and didn't answer, and Ginny knew that he was blaming himself. A vibration, cold and uncomfortable, was rising from his skin and taking shape all around him. It was something like a wall - close. Compact. Ginny stretched her hand over his heart and tried to brush the wall away, but it resisted. She could feel it pushing between their two bodies, trying to knock her back. She stayed where she was and didn't give it room to grow.

"You couldn't have helped her," Ginny said, as calmly as she could. "We all dove, we all tried, and we all failed. But it wasn't our fault, Harry. No one was expecting what happened."

"I know."

But that didn't change the fact that his energy wrestled against her, dark and desperate, wanting her gone. It wanted to expand and overwhelm him, to make him miserable without any interference. Ginny wasn't going to let it.

"You might know… but I don't think you really believe it," she said gently. "You think you're responsible. Don't you."

Harry didn't answer. He didn't have to. The air all around him was putting up a fight. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have - he wanted to be left alone, didn't want her to try and strip his guilt away from him. He felt he deserved it. Felt it was his duty to live with it. And it was bigger than the death of one Auror - it was bigger than what had happened at Azkaban. It was an overwhelming sense of responsibility and it contained within it the burden of many lost lives, all of them sitting on Harry's shoulders, where he had squarely placed them.

"Who else is your fault?" Ginny asked suddenly. She knew it was a terrible question. She knew it had the potential to send him running. But she was certain he needed to answer it. "Who else do you think you could have saved, if you'd tried hard enough?"

Harry froze in her arms. He didn't even seem to be breathing. There was fear around him now, and despair, and grief, and she knew that, just at present, he was furious with her. Ginny worried that he was going to bolt - that he was going to push his way out of her bed and Disapparate and never come back.

He drew a jerky breath. "It's not something I can just list," he said savagely.

His anger wasn't really with her, but he was directing it at her in full force. Ginny tried not to take it personally, but it was difficult.

"I know that," she said. "And you don't have to answer if you don't want to - but I know something's really bothering you, and you shouldn't have to be this upset." She pressed her hand to his chest, feeling it collapse as he breathed out. "It doesn't make sense. I mean, you never have to fly another dragon, no one's ever going to be Kissed by a Dementor again, Sirius is going to be about a thousand times happier -"

"My mum and dad, for a start," Harry said abruptly.

Ginny blinked, and then realized that he was answering her question. She wanted to contradict him - to tell him that his parents' deaths hadn't been his fault at all, and that he'd only been a baby, and that he had to let that go. But she stayed quiet, rubbed the spot just over his heart with her fingertips, and listened.

"Cedric."

That's not your fault either.

"I know Dumbledore was protecting the whole school but I still think I should have been able to…"

No.

"They never would have hurt Hermione's parents if she wasn't a friend of mine."

Ginny knew it was true. But that still didn't make it his fault.

"Your brother," he said, very softly.

Ginny's heart gave a terrible throb. "That's not true," she whispered. She couldn't let that one go. "You can't blame yourself for Percy - you weren't even there, and it was Pettigrew who killed him."

"But I let Pettigrew live," said Harry, in a voice that sounded very far away. "You didn't know that, did you? Ask Ron. I had a chance to kill him - and I knew what he was - and I let him live. Think of everyone he killed after that. And I could have stopped it.."

Grief and compassion battled for first place in Ginny's heart. "That doesn't make you Percy's murderer," she finally managed. "It makes you merciful. If you knew what he did to your parents, and you still didn't retaliate, it only shows how good and noble -"

"I still wonder if Ron thinks about that," Harry cut in softly, as if he couldn't hear Ginny at all. "But I don't want to ask him."

Under her hand, to Ginny's great surprise, she felt Harry's chest give a funny jump. She closed her eyes and tried to sense what was happening to him.

"Ron loves you," she said gently, when she realized that he was close to tears. She wasn't certain what she would do if Harry really cried. The idea almost terrified her. "Ron wouldn't have wanted you to kill anyone."

"Ron never hesitated to do what he had to do. I did."

"No."

"And I wasn't noble when we left Hagrid, was I? I let him die."

Harry's chest hitched again, and Ginny held him closer to her. She wanted him to turn and face her, but she had a feeling it was easier for him this way, when he didn't have to look at her. She hadn't heard him mention Hagrid since last summer - she knew Hagrid's death had been the worst blow for Harry, in many ways.

"It was my fault."

Dark, swallowing grief swept around the two of them - along with guilt. Guilt that was brittle and ugly and unbearable. Ginny winced against it. It made the grief unclean. It separated her from feeling it fully - it kept her from understanding it.

"Hagrid was following me." Harry's voice was harsh and choked. "He was trying to look after me. After Dumbledore died, Hagrid barely let me out of his sight - not even to go to classes. He used to stand around outside Potions in case Malfoy had orders to try something, did you know that?"

Ginny did. But Harry wasn't looking for an answer.

"He acted like a bodyguard, and I tried to tell him -" Harry gave a hollow, awful sob. He tried to muffle it in the pillow, but didn't quite manage it.

Ginny's heart ached. She buried her face in the back of his neck to let him know that she was there, and close, and with him.

"I tried telling him to stop it - I told him I didn't want him hurt, but I never really tried to stop him, because I always felt better when he was around -"

Harry made another muffled noise of grief… the last of his resistance was slipping away… the cold vibrations rose away from his body and dissipated in the air around them both, leaving them in a flood of heat and anguish. Ginny felt herself pulled into the center of his powerful bitterness; she lay in it with him and felt it fully. It tore at her heart as she listened to him talk.

"He told me not to leave school grounds for any reason - he said I wasn't to risk myself no matter what, and I promised him I wouldn't. But it was Ron."

Ginny's stomach gave a horrible wrench. The choices Harry had been forced to make. So many of them were just unthinkable.

"I couldn't wait for the teachers to look for Ron after he was kidnapped - I couldn't wait five seconds. Even if I'd wanted to, Hermione wasn't going to, and I couldn't let her go alone." Harry shook his head. "I couldn't. And I knew Hagrid had made me promise always to tell him where I was going. But I broke that promise, because I was afraid he'd find a way to stop me. So we just left. And I keep telling myself that if I'd told Hagrid where I was going, he probably would have stopped me, and we might not have found Ron in time. But then again, if I'd only told him…" Harry drew a difficult breath. "He might have understood and let us go. He might not have followed us in there."

For a while, Harry seemed incapable of speech. His shoulders shook. Eventually he rolled onto his stomach and hid his face, and Ginny felt helpless to comfort him. She laid her hand on his heaving back and quietly stroked it, reminding him that he was not alone. She had never seen him like this. He might never have been like this. Perhaps he had cried before, privately, but it was just as likely that he hadn't. In fact… Ginny closed her eyes and felt a heave in his energy that seemed to come right from his spirit. And it did feel like the first time that it had ever experienced anything like this.

"I should've known he was watching me all the time." Harry's voice was almost lost in the pillow. "I should've known. But I wasn't thinking about him at all, I didn't even know he'd followed. I don't even know how he got into Malfoy Manor, I just remember looking down at Mrs. Lestrange on the ground, and suddenly Mr. Lestrange was pointing his wand at me, and Crabbe and Goyle had theirs on Ron and Hermione - and then before I knew what had happened, Hagrid was in front of all of us."

Ginny could imagine it. Hagrid - warm, beautiful, wonderful Hagrid, who filled whole rooms and was the only one big enough to block three people.

"He told us to run, and we did," Harry went on, sounding almost frantic. "But how could we?" Harry gave an unmistakable sob. "I only wanted to get Ron out of there, it was all I cared about, it was the only thought in my head, and Hagrid was supposed to be right behind us. He said he was right behind us - the door was right there. But then there was - green light -"

Even in the heat of Harry's grief, Ginny was freezing cold.

"And I wanted to go back - I tried - but Ron and Hermione wouldn't let me go, they had me by the arms - but I could have broken free, I know it. I should have helped him -"

"You couldn't have helped him," Ginny said, very faintly. "If you saw green light, then it was too late."

"But I left him there to die."

"Oh, Harry, no. No, no." Her eyes stinging, Ginny sat up and ran both hands over his trembling back. "You've never left anyone to die. Hagrid chose to help you. He would have followed you either way. You couldn't have stopped him, because he cared about you too much."

"I know he d-did -"

Ginny's chest hurt. Her eyes were flooding. She couldn't believe that Harry was allowing himself to be so vulnerable.

"He was the f-first one who ever did - after my parents -" But Harry could speak no more. He flung both arms up onto the pillow, crossed them under his face, and sobbed right into them.

"Come here," Ginny said faintly. Her eyes had blurred completely, but she groped for Harry - she lay on her back and tried to pull him towards her. He let her do it, shifting until his body was slumped half on top of hers and he was grasping her shoulders, his face buried in her chest. Ginny cradled the back of his head and rubbed his back, and he wept into the front of her summer nightdress, soaking the thin cotton and her skin. He had come apart. He was beyond himself.

Ginny didn't know how long she held him. She wasn't sure how long he cried. She cried a little too, and rocked him when it got worse, and ran her fingers through his hair and mumbled any words she thought might help him.

When his tears finally shuddered to a halt, Harry sniffled against her. He was quiet for several minutes, and then, very slowly, he drew back and rolled off of her, onto his elbow.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't be."

He gingerly touched the front of her nightdress, which was wet through.

"I don't care about that," Ginny said, covering his hand with hers and keeping it there.

Harry looked down at her. She knew he couldn't see her very well, but his eyes scanned her face anyway.

"Hagrid told me I was a wizard," he said softly. "He took me away from the Dursleys and brought me to Diagon Alley to get all my school things. It was the first time I ever saw… any of it." Harry sniffed. "And he bought me Hedwig. For my birthday." Harry sounded somewhat amazed, as though he still couldn't believe the first friendship he had been shown. "Did you ever know that?"

Overcome with tenderness, Ginny reached up for his face and brought it down to hers, so that she could kiss his very damp cheek. She tasted salt and skin.

"No," she said.

"He's the one who told me about my parents," Harry said, still quiet. "Told me who I was. Sort of." He gave a funny little smile. "No one ever really told me for years." He gazed at the pillow, and then he sighed, dropped back down and rested his face against her neck. "I feel strange," he mumbled, and the words were soft against her skin. "It's… good and bad."

Ginny longed to tell him that he felt strange because he was mourning Hagrid for the first time, instead of bottling his grief inside of ugly guilt. She knew, because she had only just begun to mourn Percy at Christmas - her own grief had been trapped in something numb and uncomprehending. She knew that when it finally hit, it was both more painful and less horrible.

But the words were unimportant. He felt it; that was what mattered. Ginny had the sense that Harry had come to the beginning of a very long and difficult road, and that he was afraid of it - but that he was willing to walk it. And she knew that he would find his way, because she would walk it with him and make sure.

Harry lay curled against her for a long time, and Ginny held onto him. The sun grew brighter every minute, and the bedroom became almost uncomfortably warm. Harry eventually kicked off the covers, which was a relief - except that the rush of air reminded Ginny that her nightdress was very short and had obviously ridden up.

Harry's energy made a very sudden shift - he lifted up on his arms and dropped down again, but now his body was fully on top of hers. Ginny let out a low, involuntary sound of satisfaction at the pleasure of being pinned by his weight. As if in reply, Harry made a noise of want, and his mouth was so near Ginny's ear that the noise echoed in her head. It stirred something in her that made her forget that she was fairly new to all of this, and that she still felt a bit bashful with him. She bent her knee and softly dragged her toes up the outside of his leg.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04