The Lewis House 34 страница

"I did not know you worked for Gringotts." She was coming closer to his desk, dropping pensively into the chair across from his. "I worried... I am glad you were not 'urt in ze war."

She wondered. She's thought about it.

"Thanks," Bill said, feeling quite strangled by her proximity. He couldn't look up, but even as he pretended to be occupied with his papers, he caught glimpses of swinging blonde hair, and of slim hands clasped together on the edge of his desk. "I'm, er - glad you're all right, as well." He randomly shuffled a few forms. "I don't suppose your sister was ever found." His voice was low. He hadn't been able to help asking, and when he noticed her fingers tremble in response, he watched his own hands reach across the desk. Her fingers slid into his grasp and they held tightly to each other, instinctively, as they had in the trench.

"Gabrielle is gone. And your - brother?"

"Percy's dead." Bill looked up, knowing what he would see. Her eyes were as dark and sad as they had been once. "But his wife had a baby," Bill told her, watching her face brighten as he spoke, "just yesterday. She was pregnant when - and it's a boy. I have a picture - my little sister took a bunch with some sort of Muggle thing, so it doesn't move like a normal one, but -"

"Please, may I see it?"

Bill let go of one of her hands and fished in his pocket for the snapshot. Ginny had taken loads of them, enough for everyone, and Bill thought he'd got the best of the lot. Little Percy's eyes were open, pale blue and wondering, and his mouth was wide.

"Ohh..." Fleur took the picture and, after studying it for a long time, gave Bill a brilliant smile though her eyes swam with tears. "He is perfect."

"I know."

"What is his name?"

"Percival Leander."

"Congratulations -" Fleur stood without letting go of Bill's other hand, and leaned across the desk. Before Bill knew what was coming, she had swiftly kissed both his cheeks, and she left her face against his for a brief moment. Her cheek was soft. She smelled like rain. Bill drew a deep breath and leaned closer, wondering how he had lasted so long since their first meeting, feeling his blood pound in all the parts of him that counted. Fleur drew back slightly, resting her mouth rest just to the left of his, and Bill very nearly forgot that he was at work, and that the desk between them was not technically intended, by Gringotts Bank, to serve as anything other than a desk.

"Oh, I 'oped I would see you..." she was saying, quietly. He felt her whisper move across his skin. "But I did not really think... I sometimes thought that it was never real."

Bill pulled back, quite suddenly, and looked at her. "So did I," he said slowly. "Mostly because you disappeared." He let go of her hand and waited for an answer. He hadn't meant to let the conversation get this far; he'd meant to keep everything professional, to behave as if nothing had ever passed between them - which it hadn't. Not really. Not if she'd Charmed him. But as long as they weren't going to pretend anything, he needed answers. "Where the hell did you go? And why?"

She flushed, and looked disconcerted. "I am sorry," she said. "I was needed somewhere else, and when my escort arrived, we did not have time to wait."

"You could've at least woken me."

"I am sorry," she repeated, keeping her eyes on his. "Forgive me."

"And after all we'd talked about... well, I didn't know what to think, I'll tell you that." He laughed roughly, trying not to show how much her sudden departure had hurt him.

"Bill -"

"Right, and you knew my full name - you could've looked me up if you were so worried about me."

Fleur didn't answer. Neither did she move her gaze. It was deep, and blue, and sorrowful - and impossible to look away from.

"Stop looking at me like that," Bill snapped, wondering if this was how she hypnotized people. He tried to take his eyes away, and couldn't.

"Please let me..."

"No - stop looking at me. Never mind, I'm making an ass of myself and it's not even my fault, is it?" Bill forced another laugh. "Look, you don't have to explain. I know what you are. I know what really happened."

The longing expression in Fleur's eyes vanished, and was instantly replaced by something else - something cool and shallow. Her face became a mask. She looked prettier than she ever had, but the prettiness was brittle; the depth of her beauty was gone. She was a doll girl, suddenly, and not a woman. The transition shocked Bill.

"And what am I?" she asked quietly, her tone dangerous.

Bill swallowed. "You're a veela," he said. He hadn't meant it to sound like an accusation, but Fleur visibly recoiled.

"Yes I am," she said haughtily after a pause. "I am one-quarter veela. Not a pureblood. Not zat you would know anything about ze differences." She stood and smoothed her robes, flashing him an artful smile. He flinched, not certain as to why. "Well, it was lovely speaking wiz you, Monsieur Weasley." She went to the door.

"Wait," he said, standing, "I didn't mean anything by it. I'm just saying, you know, if you're part veela, then chances are I was... well... acting under the influence."

Fleur smiled at him again, another perfect, heartless smile that made him feel a little sick. "Of course you were," she said, and reached for the door handle.

"Look, you're going to need a guide around the bank, so whether you're going to speak to me or not -"

"Ze goblins will be more zan helpful, I assure you." She opened the door and swept through it, gave him one last dazzling smile - so bright that it made Bill's eyes hurt - then shut the door between them without further ceremony. Before it slammed into place, he thought he heard her mutter: "I should 'ave known."

~*~

Chapter Twenty-One

Pure Nerve

Authors’ Notes: This chapter will satisfy those of you who commented on the last chapter being too short. We would like to emphasize that we are not lawyers, nor do we play any on TV. The wizard legal system comes straight from our heads. It has evolved from the first wizard tribunal in Egypt in 2,987 ME (Muggle Era).

This chapter is dedicated to Norbert, who loves his mummy.

~*~

“Oi, Potter! Get your lazy arse out of that bed! Oi, Potter! Get your lazy arse out of that bed! Oi, Potter! Get your lazy arse -”

Harry slammed his hand down on the alarm, his heart sinking at the sound of Oliver's voice. He reached for his wand and lit his bedside lamp, squinting against the light.

“You should get a different clock,” Ron mumbled, rolling out of bed. He stood in the middle of the room, looking confused. “Early,” he muttered. “Too early.” He went slowly towards his bureau and began dressing.

“Where do you have to be?” Harry asked, sticking his glasses on his nose and getting up as well. He wondered what sort of robes he ought to wear for dragon riding, then decided that it didn't matter. Whatever he wore would get burnt to a crisp.

“Going to London.” Ron was struggling, in a state of half-sleep, to get his arm through his sleeve. It came out the neck of his robes and he grunted.

“With Sirius?” Harry pulled on a set of old Hogwarts robes over his shirt and trousers, wondering if it was stupid to go about with a Gryffindor crest on, now that school was out. But the only other robes he had were either for dress affairs or Quidditch; he hadn't ever

thought about getting normal ones. “Are you going to the Ministry?”

“Yeah. Wouldn't hurt to see a real trial.” Ron managed to get his robes on properly, and he buttoned them up. “Anyway, if it's boring, I'll go say hi to Bill.”

“Cool.” Harry tied his shoes and straightened up, holding his stomach with one hand. He was going to throw up. He knew he should probably eat breakfast - going to Azkaban on an empty stomach was probably a really stupid idea; he'd need energy to ride a dragon. But Harry had a very clear memory of coming face to face with the Hungarian Horntail, and knew that it was suicide to get anywhere near a fifty-foot, fire-breathing creature, let alone go riding on top of one. Fear made eating seem impossible.

“Let's eat.” Ron tucked his money pouch into his pocket and grabbed the door knob. “Come on, Harry,” he said, turning back when Harry didn't answer. He gave Harry a knowing look. “Look, none of your 'not hungry' business today. If you're going to be an idiot and do this thing, then you're doing it like a normal…” Ron shook his head. “Never mind the normal bit. Just eat something.”

Harry wanted to smile, but his nerves prevented it. “I think I'm going to be sick,” he managed.

“Yeah, well, I'd be sick too if I was going to do what you're doing. Oh, come on, Harry, I'm kidding. You know it's safe enough. It's madness, but the dragons are trained, and if you've lived through…” Ron sighed, and smoothed down his hair. “If you can't eat now, take something with you, all right?”

“All right.”

“Come on, then.”

“Be down in a minute.”

Ron shook his head, looking exasperated and rather like Hermione, but went downstairs without saying anything else. Harry looked around the room, wondering morbidly whether he'd ever see it again, then decided to take Ron's advice and bring food with him. He grabbed his old satchel and headed towards the kitchen.

“Harry.”

Harry turned at the top of the stairs, and stiffened. Sirius was standing outside his own door, dressed for court and looking quite grave. “Hey, Sirius,” he said, as lightly as he could. “Have a good trial.”

Sirius seemed not to hear him. “We haven't - talked.” He rubbed his chin, and Harry could hear the scrape of unshaven skin against his godfather's fingers. Sirius still had bags under his eyes, and he hadn't looked so thin since just after his escape from Azkaban. “Charlie assures me that the dragons are very well trained and that there's very little danger to you from the… Dementors. Apparently the dragons are able to deflect…” Sirius seemed to lose his train of thought. He shut his eyes and sharply shook his head.

“Sirius?” Harry asked carefully. He felt strange and awkward, talking about Azkaban with Sirius. He had no idea how to navigate the conversation.

Sirius opened his eyes and laughed harshly. “Here it is, Harry. I know you can take care of yourself, but damn it, don't let me hear that you've been within fifty yards of one of those things.”

“I'm not planning to get any closer than I have to,” Harry said truthfully.

“And no heroics.”

Harry bristled. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Sirius gave him a grim smile. “It means I want you to keep safe. It means I don't want you taking stupid, unnecessary risks.”

“Fine.” Harry gripped his bag, wondering just what he'd done that was so stupid and unnecessary that deserved this warning. Perhaps he shouldn't have done anything in the fight against Voldemort. Perhaps that had been a big show of stupid heroics. “Anything else?”

“If you're asked to do anything that's more strenuous or dangerous than any other rider, I want you to refuse.”

Harry snorted softly. He couldn’t think of anything more dangerous or strenuous than holding back Dementors with flight-trained dragons. “Yeah, all right,” he said, letting an edge of sarcasm creep into his voice. He wasn't sure why, but Sirius's advice was highly irritating at the moment.

“And if you -” Sirius began, but Harry held up his hand.

“Hold on,” he said, turning his head toward the girls' room and listening closely. There had been a noise.

Sirius sighed. “Harry, I know that after what you've seen you probably don't appreciate being told -”

“Hold on,” Harry hissed.

Sirius frowned, but bent his head to listen. “What is it?”

Harry strained to hear it again - a low, tearful sound, like a voice. He could have sworn he'd heard -

“No…Tom…” There was a thrashing noise of sheets being thrown about.

Sirius's frown deepened. “Is that Ginny?” he whispered, and moved to pass Harry and open the girls' room door.

Harry blocked him. “Have a good trial,” he repeated quickly. “I'll do what you said - I'll be fine.” As he spoke, he backed towards Ginny's door and groped for the handle until he found it. “See you,” he said, then pushed his way into the room and shut the door behind him, leaving a very surprised-looking Sirius standing in the hall.

The room was still dark, as the shades were drawn, and Harry hesitated at the door, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

“Please…not Harry…” The words were more moaned than spoken as Ginny's desperate, mumbling, one-way conversation continued. Harry shivered. He didn't have to hear Tom Riddle's threats to know what they were. It was an old nightmare, and Hermione wasn't home to do anything about it.

He could see Ginny now. She lay flat on her back with her covers kicked off and her nightdress twisted around her, revealing a good part of one pale, freckled leg. Harry faltered, suddenly not sure if he should be in here, nightmare or not. Crookshanks eyed him from Hermione's empty pillow as Ginny's hands thrashed uselessly at her sides.

“You're not him…”

Harry didn't know what to do. Her words were so clear that it was as if she was awake with her eyes closed. Her face was white and taut, and her breathing grew labored.

“Go back in…go back in…let me out - someone help me -”

She was as frightened as if it were real; real tears slid from the corners of her closed eyes and coursed down her temples. Unable to watch any longer, Harry went to her side and copied the things he had seen Hermione do. Ignoring the pounding in his blood, and doing his best not to notice how closely her nightdress fitted to the top of her, Harry sat gingerly on the edge of her bed and took her hand. It was hot and sweaty, and he repeatedly smoothed it, stroking her fingers and hushing her as quietly as he could.

“Ginny, he's gone. It's all right.”

“Harry…” She rolled slightly towards him.

“I'm here.” He squeezed her hand and watched her face relax, just a fraction. He continued to touch her gently, in what he hoped was a soothing way, letting his fingers travel up to her elbow and back down again. When her expression softened, he did it again, and continued to repeat the action until her breathing was regular. She rolled entirely onto her side, burying her face against the outside of Harry's thigh and throwing her arm across his leg.

Harry looked down at the bit of Ginny's profile he could see, feeling oddly at ease. He brushed her damp hair away from her cheek, felt her sigh against his leg, and he wished it were so easy to sit near her and touch her when she was awake. He also wished that he didn't have to leave; he wouldn't have minded sitting next to Ginny and guarding her sleep until she woke up. He waited as long as he possibly could before Disapparating for work.

“Bye,” he whispered, when he didn't have another minute to spare. As if Ginny had heard him, she tightened her arm around his legs. Very gently, Harry pried her loose, and he couldn't help smiling when she rolled onto her back with a bit of a pout on her sleeping face. “Sleep tight,” he said quietly, bending his face close to hers.

And then, because it seemed the natural thing to do, he kissed her.

It was quick, and soft, and Ginny didn't even stir, but Harry drew away with a pounding heart, staring down at her face. His mouth burned. The sun was rising outside; it sliced through the blinds and lit up Ginny's face in sections, illuminating her skin and hair. She stretched her arms over her head and sighed - and her eyes blinked open.

Harry froze. She was awake. But she hadn't focused on him - hadn't recognized him - she would go back to sleep if he stayed still. Harry held his breath and waited, his pulse racing. When Ginny's eyes fell shut again, he exhaled in relief. And when she rolled away onto her other side, Harry got up from her bed, drew his wand, and Disapparated.

A moment later, he stumbled into a dimly lit room. There were about a dozen people standing around, some talking, and some standing in corners, looking nervous. He picked out Charlie Weasley’s bright head of hair and waved when Charlie turned around.

“All right everyone,” said Charlie, acknowledging Harry with a nod and then addressing the group. “We’re just waiting for one more, and then we’ll get started.”

Harry took the opportunity to look around the room. He saw Charlie’s friend Mick talking to a woman he recognized as Lavender Brown’s sister. There were two older, burly-looking men who looked like they’d dealt with dragons before. They were joking with a tall woman with long blonde hair who was gripping an old, rather scorched, Nimbus Two-Thousand tightly in her hand. They all seemed very tall and grown-up to Harry, who scratched at the Hogwarts crest on his robes and wondered if there was a spell to remove it without leaving a mark.

“It is good to see you again, Harry Potter.” Harry turned to see Viktor Krum standing in behind him. He smiled, relieved that there was someone here that he knew, and shook Viktor’s hand.

“You’re riding the dragons?” Harry asked. “Brilliant.”

“Yes,” said Viktor, who did not look quite as surly as he used to. “My vife, Rositza, she thinks it is exciting. She is not magic, and does not understand the danger of dragons.”

“Your wife?” said Harry, curiously. Ron would certainly be interested to hear this information. He realized that Hermione was probably quite aware that Viktor had married, and had never bothered to inform Ron.

Viktor nodded, standing a bit straighter than normal. “Yes, I vos married two years ago. Ve haff a young daughter now – her name is Alanna. Tell me,” continued Viktor, lowering his voice. “That girl there, who is talking to Mr. Veasley – is she also from Hogvorts? I saw her flying once.”

Harry moved his head so that he could see where Viktor was looking. He blinked. In the dim light of the room, he could make out short, spiky hair, not unlike his own. He couldn’t see her face, but something about her posture was very familiar. At that moment, the girl looked over at them, and smiled broadly at Harry. She said something to Charlie and then walked to where Viktor and Harry were standing.

It was Cho Chang. Harry hadn’t seen her since she had left Hogwarts and he had been so preoccupied with Voldemort that he hadn’t even bothered to wonder what she’d been doing. She looked even prettier than usual with her short hair. He felt a familiar flip-flop in his stomach when she said “Hello, Harry” and introduced herself to Viktor Krum, although he soon found himself reflecting that he’d never noticed how short she was. He’d grown used to Ginny, who was almost as tall as he was, and who always seemed to be looking him in the eyes.

“You’re flying the dragons too?” asked Harry. Cho had been an excellent Seeker when she had been on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.

Cho jerked her head in Charlie’s direction. “I’ve been working with the dragons for the past year. I started just out of Hogwarts as an apprentice, and then got promoted to Charlie’s assistant just before the end of the war.”

The three of them talked for a few minutes. Viktor apparently already knew that Hermione was at Cortona, which didn’t surprise Harry at all. Cho gushed over a picture of a pretty, giggling baby that Viktor kept tucked in a locket under his vest, and told Harry that she hoped to get to the Burrow to see Leo very soon. Harry was surprised that Cho knew about the baby, but quickly remembered that Penny had been in Ravenclaw. Cho began to reassure them that riding dragons was really okay, once you got the hang of it, when the door to the headquarters burst open. A draft of cold air made the hairs on Harry’s neck stand on end, and what he saw in the doorway did nothing to calm his nerves.

Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway looking amazingly healthy for someone who had supposedly suffered lasting damage to his head, despite the large bandage that circled his "injury" at an angle. Then again, Harry reflected, he hadn’t thought Malfoy’s head had been entirely right to begin with, and he wondered what Malfoy thought he was on about, busting into private Ministry business - certainly he wasn't going to volunteer to ride a dragon. Harry snorted at the memory of Malfoy, wailing for months about what Buckbeak had done to him. Hippogriff claws paled in comparison with dragon talons; Malfoy didn't have the guts.

Malfoy strode over to Lavender’s sister and began to speak with her in quiet tones, but their voices carried. Harry could make out what they were saying, but he didn’t understand.

“… Mordor’s stable is in terrible condition. It’s bad enough that he’s being exposed to such terrible weather, but I am not paying extra money to have him receiving the same care as the common …”

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy, I understand. We’ll see to it immediately…” Over Rose’s head, Malfoy caught sight of Harry and he twisted his face into an even more unpleasant scowl.

“All right everyone!” Charlie’s voice was loud, and everyone stood at attention. “Follow me! We’re going to give you your uniforms and introduce you to some common equipment.”

They all followed Charlie through a narrow corridor to a sort of locker room, Harry keeping one eye on Malfoy, who stayed with the group as if he had something to do with it. They came to a large, narrow table, which ran the length of the wall and contained very heavy-looking robes and other gadgets. Charlie stood next to it with his friend Mick. Cho moved up to the front with them, and Malfoy slid into her space, right next to Harry. Harry shot him an irritable look, but bit his tongue; Lavender’s sister had just begun to speak in a business-like tone.

“We would like to welcome you all and thank you for accepting the task of joining the Permanent Azkaban Patrol. I am Rose K. Brown, Secretary Privy to the Minister of Magic, and am in charge of supervising this operation. You will notice me visiting on occasion, and should you have any problems that you don’t feel comfortable discussing with your immediate supervisors, Mr. Charles Weasley and Mr. Michael O’Malley” - she gestured to Charlie and Mick in turn – “then you may speak with me. Your safety is the Ministry’s biggest concern…”

Harry stopped listening to her after a while. He was more interested in the equipment on the table, and only began to pay attention when Charlie started to explain how the robes worked, what the special gloves were made out of, and when to use the Omnioculars. Cho held up each piece of gear in turn and passed it around to each of the riders as Charlie spoke. She obviously knew how to use everything, and, Harry reminded himself, had ridden a dragon before as well. He knew that Charlie and Mick had ridden dragons, and he looked around the room. The two older men and the woman with them must have ridden dragons during the war. All three of them dismissively passed the equipment back to Mick without glancing at it, and one of the men already seemed to be wearing appropriate dragon-riding attire.

What had he gotten himself into? Ron and Ginny were right. He was completely mad. Harry wondered for a moment if Voldemort had placed a curse on him as a small child that gave him a compulsion to lead himself into danger.

“Potter, are you going to adopt that belt, or are you going to pass it on?” He heard Malfoy’s drawling voice and looked down to see a pale hand stretched impatiently in front of him. He handed the wand belt to Malfoy without looking at his face, although he did notice that Malfoy was wearing a familiar ring. It was familiar because the pattern of the giant “M” in the center of it had been imprinted on Ron’s face for several days. Harry felt a new wave of fury, and turned to glare at Malfoy.

“What’s the matter, Potter?" Malfoy turned his head disdainfully and gave a pointed smirk at Harry's Gryffindor badge. "Don’t like sharing? Want to be heroic all on your own?”

“Just trying to work out what you think you're doing here,” Harry replied, through gritted teeth.

“You’re not the only Quidditch player who was invited.” Malfoy smiled. “Difficult to take, isn’t it?”

“The P.A.P. must’ve been hard up for a ninth rider.” Harry retorted, his hands clenching angrily. Malfoy was going to dragon ride. He was going to be around, making this whole thing a hundred times worse. Harry seethed, and muttered under his breath, “You must not’ve made the Falcons if you bothered coming up here.”

“Oh, no,” replied Draco, in a voice that could freeze water, “I could have had a position on the team. I just thought this would be much more interesting.”

“More interesting than hanging around hospitals, acting injured to get people in trouble?”

“Can’t imagine what you’re talking about. And if you think the fact that I’m able to walk again is going to help Weasley in court, then you -” Draco stopped himself in an uncharacteristic act of will power and grunted. Harry didn’t have time to come up with any sort of nasty response, because Charlie was now unrolling a large map, which hovered in the air in front of them.

“This is a map of the area,” explained Mick. “We’ll be giving you all copies to take home. It’s important to memorize how everything is set up. Azkaban is at the center.” He pointed his wand at a drawing of Azkaban and it became three dimensional, floating in front of its space on the map. Harry could see dark windows, cold, wet rocks, and grey walls. At the base of the fortress, small, robed figures slithered in and out of caves and doors. Dementors. Harry shivered. Draco snickered - his posture was easy, and there was no trace of fear in his expression. He seemed to smile at the Dementors, and Harry felt distinctly uneasy.

Mick pointed out several gaps in the prison walls, then restored the Azkaban fortress to the map. He drew a green ring in the water around the island, and it began to glow. “So far, the Aurors have been keeping the Dementors from migrating farther than this. Of course, a few have slipped through the cracks. That’s unacceptable. We’re hoping that the dragons will enable us to keep all of the Dementors on the island itself…”

The training continued throughout the morning. He, Viktor and Malfoy were paired off with the more experienced riders and would be trained in flight over the course of the next week. The man who was already outfitted in dragon-riding gear, and whose name was Burke, assured Harry that riding a dragon was a hundred times more wonderful than flying on a broomstick. Harry thought about asking why Burke had only volunteered to be on the relief crew, if it was so wonderful, but he bit his tongue and looked around the room at everyone else.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04