Chapter Thirty-Five
Outbursts
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A/N: This is another humongous chapter. There's not much else to say, really. We can't believe you're still reading.
Thank you for the betas, Caroline, CoKerry and Firelocks.
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In her dream, the Great Hall was as resplendent as it had been at every Leaving Feast for the past six years. Banners hung proudly at the heads of long, shining tables and golden plates were piled high with fantastic foods. The teachers sat, straight-backed and smiling in their throne-like chairs, surveying the scene as if all was well.
Disenchanted, Hermione gazed down the Gryffindor table and across the hall.
There were so many empty chairs. At every table.
She had never thought the day would come when she would look forward to leaving this place, but the Hogwarts air was full of more fear than magic, and those who were fighting Voldemort could no longer risk being near certain students, whose aims were so obviously the opposite of what they should have been. And yet they had to sit with them today. Hermione wondered briefly if it was really wise to hold a Leaving Feast, this year.
Hermione's eyes strayed to the Slytherin table. Malfoy wasn't there. Perhaps he had decided that the Leaving Feast was beneath him and that he did not care to hear Headmistress McGonagall's commencement speech - she was giving it now in proud, even tones that rang out in the hall. Surely Malfoy would have spent the whole time sneering. Better that he should stay in the dungeon and sulk until he could go out into the world and truly become what Hermione knew he already was.
Not that Hermione could hear the speech either. McGonagall's words might have been inspirational, but Hermione could hardly concentrate; what she wanted more than anything was to turn and lean her forehead against Ron's shoulder and cry her heart out. This was the end. And tomorrow they would get on a train and go away, into a world where Voldemort and his Death Eaters had gained more ground than anyone had ever thought possible. Tomorrow they would leave their castle and their childhoods completely behind.
Tomorrow Harry would be gone.
Hermione slid her hand into Ron's, under the table, and he gripped it with all his might, though he didn't know what was coming. She wanted to tell him. She wished she could tell him. Playing dumb would be harder than anything she'd ever done. It would be excruciating to watch Ron grieve when he realized that Harry had disappeared and that he did not have any idea how to find him. But Hermione knew it was the best way. The only way. She was the best secret keeper she knew, and Harry knew it too. And if it would protect him - all of them - then she would let Ron agonize.
There was no room for a third party in a Fidelius Charm.
"If it isn't finished before we leave here, you realize we'll have to go into hiding," Hermione had said, only a week ago. She and Harry had been in the corridor late at night, walking up to the telescopes for a bit of extra study. Or so Hermione had told Harry. They had rounded the corner and come to the tower stairs.
"Together," Harry had said immediately, glancing at her as if it had been understood all along and there was no need to bring it up.
"No."
He'd paused with his foot on the bottom stair. "What?"
"You're not coming with us."
He had given her a look of such righteous anger that she had nearly given up right there. He had always had the power to frighten her.
Hermione had reached out and gripped the banister. She had looked both ways to ensure that they were entirely alone. "Listen to me. This is for your protection -"
"We made Expecto Sacrificum for that."
"Yes. But you can't go back to the Dursleys'. You can't go to Sirius's - you can't go anywhere, Harry. You're a target. You know you are."
Harry had stood there, silent and furious, and stared at her.
"You'll go into hiding and you'll wait. I'm going to be your Secret Keeper. And I'm not going to tell anyone. Not even Ron."
Harry had gaped. "But you have to - he'll -"
"No. I want him protected too. And myself. I won't have a repeat of what happened before, and if Ron were to be the Secret Keeper… Harry, he's been taken once. I won't have him taken again. And if he is taken and they determine that he's participated in the Fidelius, they'll strip it off him and break his mind and kill him for what he knows."
"Then what about you?"
"I have better mental control. The day we leave here, Ron and I are both going back to the Burrow, and he's going to think you're coming with us. But after the Leaving Feast, you and I are going to wait for him to go to sleep, and then we'll perform the Fidelius Charm in secret. You'll leave Hogwarts straight away. You'll write a note to Ron saying that you're going to meet us - that you feel it's safer if we go separately. But you won't come. And when Ron and I get to the Burrow, we'll find another note from you, and it'll say that you're staying on your own, and that for all our sakes you couldn't warn us. And I'm going to pretend that I had no idea."
"And where should I go?"
"That's up to you. Tell me when you've decided, so that I can keep in touch with you… Harry?"
Harry had looked so pale and shaken that Hermione had been unsure how to proceed.
"What about everyone else?" he'd finally managed. "What about the Weasleys? Sirius and Remus? What about Ginny - where will she go?"
"She'll be with us."
"All of you at the Burrow? How is that safe? And how will everyone know where I am, if I'm needed? Don't I have to be there for Expecto Sacrificum? I can't just hide until it's over - it's me that's supposed to end it."
"I'm going to keep in contact with you. I'll keep you informed of everything the Order is doing. Sirius and Remus plan to keep moving around, and yes, we'll be at the Burrow."
"That's not safe enough."
"That's all there is. We can take care of ourselves."
"And I can't?"
"Please, Harry." Hermione had taken both his hands, shocked at how cold they were. "Let me do this. I'm the right person to do this, you know I am. It's going to be hard, it's going to be horrible, but it won't last forever, and this way, at the end, there's a chance we'll all still have each other. I can't lose you. I can't. I look at Sirius and Remus and I see what they've lost - what you've lost - and I can't let it happen again. You're part of my heart, Harry. Don't make me live my whole life wishing I could have done something. Just let me do it now, while there's a chance, and let me keep it quiet. You know I can. You know this is right. Because if it's you that has to end it, then you have to be alive to do it, and you won't live long once we leave here if you're not entirely protected. Please, please say yes. You have to say yes. If not for yourself, then for the people who love you and need you."
Harry had looked down at their hands, his eyes glassy. For a long time, he had not moved or spoken. And then - "Do you know how to do the charm?" he'd barely whispered.
Relief had flooded Hermione. He was much closer to agreeing, if he was asking that. "Yes. I've been studying it for months. I had a feeling we'd need it."
"How are you going to stop Ron from coming to find me and making a target of himself?"
"Tell him in your note, in no uncertain terms, that he's to do no such thing or he'll end up killing all of us including me. Make a point of that. And then leave the rest to me."
"Planned it all out, haven't you?"
"Yes."
"Then how… what am I supposed to…" Harry had looked up at her, clearly lost. "What am I supposed to do on my own? By myself?"
Hermione had choked and thrown her arms around him, holding him tight though he had hardly held her back. "Just be careful. I don't care what else you do. Just be careful." She had kissed his cheek and pulled away, trying not to cry and failing miserably.
"You should have told me this before," Harry had said croakily. "I hardly have any time left and I have to spend it all on the N.E.W.T.s."
"Forget the N.E.W.T.s." Hermione had laughed and sobbed together at the look of shock on his face. "Skive off your exams and play chess with Ron. I wish you could go out and play Quidditch."
"It's too unsafe."
"Yes."
Harry had stared away at the wall. "At least I don't have a wife and a child," he'd said in a strange, absent voice. "My dad was mad to take her, I'd never -" He had stopped short, and his cheeks had flushed dull red.
"He didn't take her," Hermione had said quietly. "She went on her own."
"I know. Never mind. Hermione… are you sure you -"
"More than sure."
"And our friends won't know this, no one's going to risk themselves to find me, you promise me that."
"I swear it."
Harry had nodded. And then immediately another cloud of anger had passed over his face and darkened his eyes. "No," he'd said grimly. "It doesn't matter if you're right - this is wrong. It doesn't matter how careful you are. They'll find you. All of you. And they'll -" He had choked on the next words. "They'll torture you," he'd managed, looking furious. Frightened. "They'll kill you to find me, and I won't leave you to that. I'm not going off and being safe and leaving you and the Weasleys to cover for me. I'm not."
"Harry…" Hermione's heart had plummeted. She had been so close. "It's as much to protect us as anything else - we need you alive. You're necessary - you know you are - just like your dad was, Harry, please - I know their bluff didn't work, but your dad knew it was necessary to hide, he knew he had to survive -"
"I didn't know him," Harry had said heatedly, "but I know why he went into hiding, Hermione, and it wasn't so he'd survive, it was so I would. I haven't got anyone to think of like that, I haven't got a wife and baby to protect, I'm free to fight like he wasn't, and I will fight, I won't stand back -"
"Oh Harry, we've been over this, you're not thinking straight, of course you'll fight. You've never stood back in your life, that's not the question, this isn't a matter of pride, if you die then he wins - listen to me -"
"I won't hide." And his voice had been as full of iron as it had ever been in all their friendship. "I won't leave. That's final."
"Please," Hermione had said desperately, knowing from his eyes that she had lost. "You have to, Harry, you have to."
But he had refused to consider it further, and after several more useless pleas, Hermione had all but given up. They couldn't keep talking about it in the corridor anyway. Someone would hear them and the option of using the Fidelius would be lost.
"Fine," she had said wearily. "I'll… I'll give you till the Leaving Feast to come up with a better idea. But if you can't, then you have to do this, because if you think I'm going to stand here and let you leave this school and walk out into the world without any sort of shield and get yourself killed right in front of my face, then you don't know me very well. I'll body bind you and make you do this, Harry. I'm not joking."
Harry had only set his mouth and shaken his head.
And that had been the end of it. Together they'd gone up to the Astronomy tower and looked up at the stars, neither of them speaking. Together they'd gone back to Gryffindor Tower to find Ron sleeping in a chair and snoring happily, Quidditch Times open across his stomach. Harry had stood over him for a moment with a look on his face that broke Hermione's heart, before he had turned and gone upstairs by himself.
And they would perform the Fidelius Charm tonight. He was still clearly furious with her, but he had not come up with a better idea, and the look on his face all afternoon had been so quietly, desperately sad that she knew he must have realized that it was his only option. He still hadn't told her where he planned to hide. Professor McGonagall had told him once that he was welcome to stay at Hogwarts as long as he needed, but when Hermione had suggested that to him, he'd only said that he wouldn't stay and jeopardize the school any longer.
She wondered where he would go.
Keeping hold of Ron's hand, Hermione glanced left, at Harry. He met her eyes with a look that said more than he could have spoken, and he swallowed so hard that she could see it. She wanted to tell him that it was all right. That he would make it - that she would make him make it. But to say anything at all was to reveal herself to Ron, who knew her far too well not to question her. She turned back to the high table.
"In my nearly seventy years at this school I have rarely seen such spirit in the face of adversity."
Hermione could hear Professor McGonagall now - the Headmistress's words had Dumbledore's ring to them. Hermione had never heard her sound so gentle. She studied the rest of her teachers' faces and saw the same gentleness in many of their eyes. Professor Vector, Professor Sprout, Professor Figg. People who had given her a whole new life and tested her in every possible way. Ways that, sometimes, they should not have tested her… Hermione searched for Snape but he was not in his chair and she wondered where he was. Perhaps he had been called to duty in the night, by Remus or Moody. Hermione wished he were there; strangely enough, she knew that she would miss him very much.
Professor McGonagall's eyes drifted to the Gryffindor table and traveled to where Harry, Ron and Hermione sat together. "I'm very proud of this seventh year class." Her voice was suspiciously scratchy. "Proud of your advancements and accomplishments, and proud of you for finishing. Though I will be very sorry to see you go."
A stifled, miserable noise made Hermione turn her head. From across the table, Ginny gazed unabashedly at Harry, her eyes full of tears as if she knew he was about to disappear, though she couldn't have known that. Several other Gryffindors glanced sympathetically at her and Hermione couldn't help but look at her too; Ginny's emotions were always oddly compelling. There was something so quietly grown-up about her these days that she almost seemed older than the rest of them, and Hermione wasn't too surprised to see that Harry was looking back at Ginny without apology. He had seemed newly conscious of her since nine days ago, when they had built Expecto Sacrificum. Not that his consciousness had come to anything. Not that it would have a chance to come to anything for a long, long time.
"I thank you for your hard work and for the gifts you have brought to this school. I wish you… safe and useful lives." Professor McGonagall looked to be working hard to keep her composure. She gripped her goblet in her hand and raised it high, her eyes shining. "Good luck to all of you."
Hermione was dimly surprised to see that Blaise Zabini was the first to stand. She would have expected him, and all the rest of the Slytherins, to stay seated throughout the toast. Perhaps she'd underestimated some of them. They were nearly all standing. So were many of the Ravenclaws. Some of the Hufflepuffs. A few of the younger Gryffindors. Hermione moved to stand, as well.
It all happened so fast that neither she nor anyone else could have prevented it. The standing students, like the parts of some terrible machine, moved with rapid precision to new positions in the hall, wands drawn, faces intent. Spells were hissed in overlapping succession, leaving Hermione dizzy and weak, unsure of what had been said.
Before she could even reach for her wand she felt her wrists bound. She didn't know how it had happened. She tried to speak and found that she was mute. Movement of any kind was nearly impossible - whatever they had done it was quick and it was total - there was no rustling in the hall, no sound of struggle. There were no screams, and the students in control did not speak or threaten. It was an elegant attack. Hermione could only move her neck a little, and her eyes, which she did frantically, taking in the scene in its frightening totality.
The students were frozen in their seats, hands, bodies and mouths clearly bound by some very serious magic. The younger attackers and most of the standing Hufflepuffs that Hermione could see stood guard at the lower sections of the House tables, where they oversaw the younger students. The older Slytherins and Ravenclaws had taken on the more difficult target areas. There was a student manning every teacher. A student on every student who might have posed a serious threat. Across the table, the tip of a wand was being held to Neville Longbottom's throat. Another student covered Parvati. Lavender. Seamus and Dean. Crabbe and Goyle and Millicent Bulstrode, along with two sixth year Slytherin boys, stood in a motionless row behind their hostages, blank-faced, as if awaiting further instructions.
A sixth year Slytherin girl had her wand to Ginny's temple, but Ginny did not even look afraid; her eyes were still on Harry, much as they had been just a moment ago. Her expression had barely changed, except that now she seemed to be watching his chest. Hermione could not turn to see it, but she knew, with a sickening thud of her gut, that someone must have had a wand on Harry. And one on Ron. She could hear both their breathing - heavy and ragged, voiceless and furious.
She felt the tip of a wand slide across her own throat and she swallowed the bile that threatened to rise. She did not know who her aggressor was - and then a quiet, mocking laugh over her head made Hermione wish she could bring back both her elbows with enough force to break Pansy Parkinson's legs.
"Hufflepuffs out first." The voice was Blaise Zabini's and he was on her left. At Ron's back. "Ravenclaws in a line behind them. Teachers next. And then the Gryffindors - Potter last."
Hermione wished she knew who was at Harry's back.
"To the doors."
To the doors - then they were being taken outside - but for what? Who was waiting?
You know who's waiting. Just like fifth year. Only this time we can't fight. And Dumbledore's not here to shut them out.
Hermione saw the captive Hufflepuffs rise, terror and the shock of betrayal written in their faces as they were led away by their own housemates. Her heart went out to the little ones, whose tears coursed down their cheeks as they were marched away to the doors of the Great Hall. She heard them leave. She realized with grim satisfaction that, in order to usher them outside, the attackers would have to give them back the use of their legs. But then again, she wondered how helpful it would really be to run when she had no hands to pull her wand and no voice to say her spells. Better to follow until she could make her way free. If she could make her way free. She began to concentrate on freeing her body from whatever spell it was under, but it was not Imperius, and didn't seem like it could be broken through sheer strength of will.
"Take the Ravenclaws."
The Ravenclaws were marched silently out by many of their fellows, looking appalled and horrified. Their own had turned on them and they had no voices to express how they felt about it, but their eyes were dark with fury and fear and loathing. Dim with tears. Hermione heard a harsh, faraway voice telling different students to go different ways, when they reached the doors. She had no idea what it meant.
"The professors."
One of them has to know a way to break this. One of them has to be able to do something about this.
But they filed out in a long, grim line, each looking as if he or she was working inwardly to break what could not be broken.
Snape. Hermione's heart soared. Snape isn't in here. He'll be able to stop this, if only he sees. And he'll see. No one could miss this.
"Gryffindors. Keep Potter at the back of the line."
Hermione's legs felt as if they'd suddenly thawed; they tingled and ached like they'd been asleep for hours. She stood on them, though it was painful, and turned left towards the doors.
Her blood went cold.
Professor Sinistra had her wand to the back of Harry's head. Harry's shoulders rose and fell rapidly as he was escorted out of his place in line and taken to stand behind Ron, who had shuffled into line behind Hermione.
As long as we three are close together, we'll be fine. As long as they don't think to separate us, we'll be fine.
They were taken to the doors and more than once Hermione thought of running for it, but she knew it was no good to run. Not yet. The Gryffindors queued up at the doors, and one by one they were evaluated and sent one way or the other. Hermione watched and listened, baffled.
"Considine, Ashley. Right."
The little second year turned right. Into the castle - not towards the grounds - Hermione wondered what was happening.
"Hammond, Robert. Left."
The fifth year boy went left, towards the entrance stairs. So he was being taken outside. Hermione narrowed her eyes, trying to understand.
"Anderson, Craig. Right." A boy in Ginny's class disappeared.
"Robinson, Sharon. Left. Bumgardner, Emma." The Slytherin at the door snorted. "Right, unfortunately. Squire, Beth. Right. Sheehy, Kathleen. Right. Beam, Polly. Left."
They were all in Ginny's class. All of them girls Hermione knew well enough. And as the separation procedure began to make sense to her, Hermione began to feel so sick that she wondered if she would throw up.
Sharon Robinson's Muggle-born. Polly Beam's Muggle-born. And Robert Hammond… Robert Hammond is half-blood.
"Weasley, Ginny. Ri-"
"Left," called out Blaise, from behind them in the hall. "Send the Weasleys left with the rest of the rubbish."
Hermione watched Ginny disappear with her red head held high and her profile strangely unperturbed.
"Thomas, Dean. Left. Brown, Lavender. Left. Finnegan, Seamus. Left. Longbottom, Neville. Right."
Neville lifted his trembling chin, turned left, and marched out. The boy at the door tried to stop him.
"Let him go," Blaise called, sounding unconcerned. "His loss, and certainly not ours."
"Patil, Parvati. Right."
Parvati was shaking. But she turned left as well, and Hermione felt a surge of real love for her.
"Idiots," Blaise muttered.
"Granger, Hermione." The Slytherin boy was in fifth year. Or fourth. Hermione wasn't sure. But he was tall and he looked down at her with a smile of twisted pleasure, tapping his quill against a scroll of parchment. "Well. Look who's quiet, for once. And look who's going left."
Hermione stayed where she was. They were being sent left to die, she knew that. Separated for whatever slaughter waited on the lawns. Just as clearly, she knew that she was not going to die - not here, today. Not like this, not simply because of her blood. She hesitated, and she tried to work her mouth.
"No."
Her heart began to pound. She'd said it. Either she was breaking the spell, or it was wearing off.
"NO."
Behind her, Ron stepped up so close that she could feel the whole of him against her back and she leaned against him for support, wrenching at her hands with all her mental might. She only needed her wand and her voice - and she had her voice.
"What are you waiting for?" Blaise shouted. "Do what you need to do, but send her out."
The Slytherin boy dropped his parchment and pulled his wand. He pointed it at Hermione's legs and muttered a spell that made her shout with pain. She buckled and fell back. Had Ron not been there, she would have crumpled.
"If you don't want it again, you'd better be on your way," snarled the boy. And beneath his snarl there was a rumbling noise that did not come from him. It seemed to be rising from the depths of the castle, deep and frightening.
"No." It was all Hermione was capable of saying, but she planned to say it until there was no fight left in her. The floor beneath her feet began to tremble slightly, as if an earthquake were beginning.
The boy narrowed his eyes at her. "Worse then," he said quietly, and pointed his wand at her stomach. But his fingers were shaking. He looked at them in confusion, and then around at the walls of the corridor, fear obvious in his eyes. The rumbling had grown too loud to ignore and the floor was really shaking now. Hermione leaned against Ron again, desperate to stay on her feet.
Shouting - loud, frantic shouting from the lawns made the boy's head turn. He peered down the corridor. "Zabini," he yelled worriedly. "Something's going on out here, you'd better -"
"You'd better bloody well send them out there. They're what's being waited for you total waste of - Sinistra, get them out of here -"
But Blaise's voice became a scream of pain. His scream was quickly followed by a roar from the boy in the corridor who had been sorting the students; he clutched his head and his eyes rolled; he curled in a ball on the ground and begged for mercy. Hermione watched in horror, and was about to run, when the painful screams were drowned out by a much more chilling noise - a noise like thousands of bones breaking together. It came from over their heads. Hermione whirled and so did Ron and Harry - Sinistra had turned as well, and taken two steps back into the Great Hall, her wand hand outstretched.
The enchanted ceiling was cracking. Splitting. Huge chunks of painted stone were falling from it, dropping to the floor like swirling bits of cloud, then smashing to the floor and flying into thousands of shards. Stone pummeled the tables, the teachers' chairs, the beautiful windows. And beneath the splitting dome, Blaise Zabini lay twitching, his mouth open in a silent scream.
An enormous slab of sky broke away from the ceiling. It tumbled fast - there was no time to stop it - and it crushed Zabini into the stone floor before Hermione had the sense to turn away. She gagged and pressed her mouth shut - she really was going to throw up -
"Hurry." Professor Sinistra had turned her wand on them, but, to Hermione's shock, the professor only set their hands free. "Hurry - they're deliberately destroying the hall from the outside - they didn't want anyone to have an opportunity to hide." She pushed Harry, who stood dumbstruck, towards the door. "Go!" she urged. "Go - you're needed, all of you. I'm right behind you."
They ran flat out towards the entrance doors. Hermione tried to process, as they raced for the entrance doors, what had just happened. Had Professor Sinistra cursed Zabini and his fellow? She must have. Had she been working both sides, like Snape? Perhaps. How many more secrets were there - when would they be shocked again - or would they ever see each other after this? Was this the end?
They paused at the front doors and glanced at each other for a split second that was an eternity. They pulled their wands.
Ron shoved the doors open.
Hermione saw several members of the Order already fighting - several students already freed and battling Death Eaters - a few younger students lying horribly still and quiet on the grass… And then the flashing white light of a curse came hurtling towards her and she spun to deflect it, forgetting everything but survival - survival - survival -
"Preoccuposis!" she shouted, her voice high-pitched and terrified - her heart beating so quickly that it was painful - she could hear Ron's raw shouts behind her, Ginny's distant and clinically chanted hexes, Harry's ironclad incantations. But she could not turn to see what they were warding off, because there was another curse coming at her and this one was brighter - faster - more frightening -
"Finite Incantatem!"
*
Hermione woke with a start, breathing hard. She sat up and hugged her knees, disoriented, and she looked around the room. She was in the front room of Lupin Lodge; a book lay tumbled on the floor and someone had put a blanket over her. Crookshanks was perched on the top of the sofa, staring down at her as if he knew to be worried. She must have fallen asleep while reading - there was no battle here. No Death Eaters, no crumbling school, no curses. She was all right. It was all over. She buried her face in her knees for a moment, amazed at how real it could seem, in sleep. She wondered if it would always be so vivid and imagined that it would. Those were not the sorts of memories that lost their color. Ever.
She lifted her head after a moment and squinted; the light outside the windows was dawn blue. It was too dark to be much later than five. Still tired, Hermione slumped back and shut her eyes, wanting to sleep a little longer.
But her eyes would not stay closed, and the shadows in the room seemed unfriendly; the dream had stirred something ugly and cold in her heart and she knew she couldn't sleep any more.
A scraping noise from the kitchen made Hermione jump; she tensed and listened, too highly strung to be immediately sensible. Crookshanks jumped to the floor and ran in the direction of the noise. A moment later, someone began to hum. Probably not a Death Eater, Hermione thought wryly, getting to her feet and shuffling into the kitchen to find Sirius already dressed for work. She leaned against the worktop.
"You're up early," she croaked.
Sirius whirled, but relaxed when he saw her. She wondered if he ever had bad dreams. Even if he did, he didn't look gaunt and shadowy today - rather he seemed extremely young and manic as he moved hurriedly about the kitchen. "Tea?"
Hermione nodded, and a cup materialized before her in the air. She closed her hands around it and felt warmer. "Thank you."
"Ginny's up too - at least, I saw her light."
Hermione was surprised. Ginny was like Ron that way; both of them slept until the last possible minute. "Oh, would you tell Ron I'm sorry I didn't visit last night? I meant to, but I fell asleep on the sofa."
"He already knows. Who do you think stopped by and covered you up?" Sirius winked.
"Oh." Hermione smiled into her tea and decided that she would visit the Notch tonight, and make it up to Ron.
"I'll tell him though," Sirius said. "And before I leave - I meant to tell you the other night that your spell sounds brilliant. How's it coming along?"
"Quickly." The last of Hermione's sleepiness ebbed away and she was glad to be awake. She could get some work done before she went to the Burrow. "It's mapped. I only need to test and adjust it… which is the problem, really. I can't exactly create a duplicate of a residual to test it on."
"Would you show me?" Sirius looked eager. "Remus said it's impressive." He smiled at her.
Hermione wasn't sure she trusted his smile. It seemed too charming for five in the morning. She remembered Ron's warning that she shouldn't give Sirius information, and she narrowed her eyes. "It won't work on the Dementors, you know. It's too small."
"No, I understand." Sirius looked a bit sheepish. "I wasn't entirely myself the other night. I am interested in the spell for personal reasons, but I'm not entirely selfish - not entirely." He smiled again. "I hope it's effective, Hermione. It would be…"
"Miraculous." Hermione laughed a little, trying to keep her spirits light. "Still, I have to try. Yes, I'll show you - my wand's in the living room."
Sirius followed her into the front room, where she put down her tea and picked up her wand.
"This is only the map," she said, and chanted the spell as she flicked her wand to show him.
The room lit up in strange, dancing red and blue shadows, and a golden light washed over the two of them. Gaping, Sirius reached out his hands and dragged his fingers through the illusion.
"Hermione," he said, sounding impressed.
"It's not very complicated," she said happily. It was nice to be thought impressive by a wizard like Sirius. "You've made far more complex maps - the Marauder's Map has about a thousand more levels -"
"What are the blue rays?"
"The tears. The path the tears will take."
Sirius studied it for several minutes, and continued to ask questions until he seemed satisfied. "And you'll use it on both of your parents at once, or -?"
"Both at once. Because it's small, but very powerful and it… it's going to affect the whole room. The area of the room. And I don't know how it will affect me, when I cast it…" Hermione trailed off. "I'm going to need help. I haven't done enough really big magic."
Sirius glanced at her. "I don't know about that," he said.
"Not on people. Not by myself."
"Well, if you want help casting it, I'd be happy to assist. So would Remus, I imagine. In fact, he'll probably insist."
Hermione nodded, flicked her wrist, and watched the shimmering map dissolve.
"Thanks for showing me," Sirius said, looking very thoughtful. "If you have it drawn up on parchment, I'd like to make a copy - just to study," he protested, when Hermione gave him a shrewd look. "I was a halfway decent student, once upon a time." He grinned, and headed to the hallway. "I'd like to try a little Thinking of my own. See you later."
Hermione turned away and rolled her eyes. The arrogance of him, expecting to be able to Think properly, when he'd never even studied the process. Then again, he was the sort of person who made up Marauder's Maps, and he had turned himself into an Animagus when he was just fifteen. Perhaps his arrogance was deserved.
Just as she heard the soft pop of Disapparation that meant that Sirius had gone to work, Hermione also heard a noise in the study. She went towards it. Perhaps Remus was already awake, and she could ask him to help her with the spell. It was ready to be tested. She was almost certain.
But it was Ginny who sat in the study, cross-legged in a big stuffed chair by the fire, idly stirring a cauldron while she pored over papers in her lap.
"Flight maintenance," she said dully, when Hermione came in, "is achieved by: A. Continued concentration. B. Charms pre-placed within the given vehicle. C. Parallel arithmantic paths. D. A, B and C - or E. Both B and C."
"What is this?"
Ginny sighed. "Practice N.E.W.T. exams in Magic Theory. This is exam number one. Charms."
"Sirius said he saw your light upstairs, I didn't even hear you come down."
"I Apparated, I'm lazy."
Hermione hardly agreed. It wasn't yet six in the morning and Ginny was working on Wolfsbane Potion and studying for exams at the same time. "Do you know the answer?"
Ginny chewed her lip for a minute. "It's D or E, isn't it?"
Hermione winced apologetically. "No, it's B. Concentration is good for getting the broom to hover, but flight maintenance is all charm work - think about it. When you're flying it's not like doing spell work, you don't have to keep the idea of flying in your mind the whole time. And the arithmantic paths in flight charms aren't parallel - they're interlocking. Webbed. You know, like a net, for support."
Ginny hung her head and groaned. "Take my exams for me," she demanded. "Use a Polyjuice Potion."
"I can't, that's cheating."
"I'm joking." Ginny lifted her head and laughed. "Unless you change your mind, of course. I'd love to get a hundred N.E.W.T.s." She leaned over the cauldron and peered at her potion, then sat back and kept stirring. "Why are you up so early?"
"I couldn't sleep. You?"
"I had a nightmare. And I have things to do, so I didn't bother trying to go back to sleep."
Hermione pulled the other study chair close to Ginny's; she sat down and touched Ginny's arm. "I'm sorry," she said. She had used to be there to help Ginny with the nightmares, but lately she had often slept at Ron's, and had forgot all about it.
"Oh, it wasn't a bad one." Ginny shrugged. "Just a weird one. Very short. I dreamed the ceiling in the Great Hall was falling - I dreamed I saw what happened to Blaise Zabini, and I wasn't even in there for that. I never have dreams about that day."
Hermione stared at her.
"What?" Ginny demanded.
"I… that was the same dream I was having." Hermione frowned. "The same nightmare."
"Oh!" Ginny looked extremely pleased. "Then I'm feeling dreams - that's so good - that means I'm really far along. Other Healers have said that in the early stages of their human healing development, when they were finally getting a grasp on what they would be able to accomplish, they started feeling dreams. It doesn't last, apparently. It's not something I'll always do, it's just a phase. The Empathy is tuning itself while I sleep, because it's trying to reach its potential. At least, that's what the books say. My extra sense searches out trouble in the household or environment around me, and sort of… teaches itself." She looked pensively into her lap. "I'm so close now," she said to herself. "Almost there."
"It's a shame they don't offer a N.E.W.T. in Empathic Magic."
"I know!" Ginny looked up. "I love studying Healing. But then, it's relevant." She looked down at her practice papers. "This stuff isn't. And it's boring."
Hermione bit her tongue. It was all very relevant to her.
"It's relevant," came Remus's scratchy voice from the doorway. He'd crept up on them silently and was watching Ginny's progress with the potion. "And exciting, in my opinion. Perhaps your professor is to blame - a boring professor is the death of any subject." He grinned a bit and looked at Hermione. "Spell work at the Burrow today?" he asked.
She nodded. "But not until this afternoon. Fleur wants the morning to herself, to sort out a few kinks in her own spell casting before we adjust the spell again."
"Well, you've got some time to spare," Remus said. "It's barely seven now. Perhaps you'd like to take over Ginny's morning lessons?"
Ginny's eyes widened in something like horror and Hermione laughed. "No, no…" she said. "If you're boring, I can't imagine what I'd be."
Remus sat down on the sofa. "I have to admit, I'm not much in the mood for teaching a proper lesson, today. I've just had an idea."
"Well?" Ginny said, when Remus did not continue to reveal what was going on in his head.
"I think I can prove to you just how relevant and important charm work can be." Remus turned to address Hermione. "How's that Weeping Spell coming along?"
Hermione felt her stomach tighten with anticipation. "It's… it's as far as it can be, I think, without actually trying it," she said slowly. "Do you – would you be able to work with me on it this morning?"
"I think now is as good of a time as any. Ginny can see how important it is to understand the arithmantic properties behind spells and enhance her Empathic powers; you can test the accuracy of your Thinking abilities; and I can practice a powerful spell – something I haven't done in quite a while."
"Really?" Hermione found that she was not frightened. She wanted to try it. She had to know. "You think it's all right to just go and try it on my parents, right now?"
"As soon as Ginny's dressed." Remus rose from the sofa.
Hermione couldn't help herself; she clapped her hands together and grinned - and then suddenly her stomach gave a terrified lurch after all. "Remus?" she asked nervously. "If we're going to try this, I don't think I can… I'll need some help, because it's a really powerful spell, and – "
Remus stopped to touch her arm on his way to the door. "Of course I'll help," he said. "I was going to insist."
"Sirius said you would."
"And to think, Divination was always his worst subject. I'm going to have some toast," Remus said. "Let's meet back here in half an hour, if you can wait that long."
Hermione nodded, and as soon as he left, turned to Ginny, who was still stirring the Wolfsbane Potion.
"Is it all right with you, Ginny?" Hermione asked. "I mean, we'll need your help sensing their auras after the spell is cast and I know that the last time you were near them it was difficult. I don't want to – "
Ginny waved a hand at her. "This is wonderful," she said. "I was so busy with N.E.W.T. preparation that I never finished my Transfiguration essay. Besides, I told you, I want to try to help your parents. I can't think of a better use for my skills right now."
Heading upstairs for a quick preparatory meditation before they departed to St. Mungo's, Hermione decided that it wouldn't be too detrimental to allow Ginny access to just a few of her old Transfiguration essays. It was all that she had to give at the moment, and seemed a minor price to pay for the opportunity to see her parents laugh and smile again.
~*~
Ginny pulled her white St. Mungo's labcoat tighter around her, and looked through the window of the door to the Grangers' hospital room. She had wanted to be inside the room while they performed the spell, but Remus and Hermione had insisted that she leave. Both of them had been afraid that any change in the room's emotion could have a negative effect on her.
Remus was standing on Mr. Granger's side of the bed. His back was to Ginny, and from his stance, she could tell that he was apprehensive, yet calm. Hermione, standing in front of her mother, had her eyes closed and kept nodding her head, as if trying to reassure herself. The Grangers, unaware of what was about to happen although Hermione had told them, lay in their bed, their open eyes staring straight ahead, frozen in terror. Ginny shivered.
Hermione opened her eyes. For a moment, she looked like her parents – her eyes were wide and glassy, and the expression on her face, though not one of terror, was one of tense anticipation. She nodded once, said something, and both she and Remus raised their wands over the bed. They stayed like that for what seemed like a very long time, and Ginny could almost feel her own arm hurting. Then, just when she thought she could bear it no longer, Hermione lowered her wand with a flourish so that the tip hovered just over her mother's head; Remus mirrored her action over Mr. Granger. Together, they chanted Experiri Lacrimus Salacium! so loudly that Ginny heard it in the hallway and felt something come loose inside her as well.
When Hermione had shown Ginny the spell at Lupin Lodge, she'd been impressed. But that had been nothing compared to what was happening inside the Grangers' room. This was real magic – not some simple Summoning Charm. This was like the Patronus spell, and the Sacrifice spell, and Ginny wondered how many witches and wizards would ever have a chance to see so many powerful things in their lifetimes. She hoped that there wouldn't be a need ever again.
The points of light from the spell formed an enormous canopy over the Grangers' bed. They hovered for a moment, and then, like lightning, shot down and connected with hundreds of points along the Grangers' bodies. The light seemed to be pulsating, and the red knots – the pain knots – that Ginny had seen when the spell had been performed in theory, did not seem to be appearing. Was the spell working? She hadn't considered the possibility that it could fail, that it might not be effective. Lacrimus Salacium seemed to be having an effect on her, even from outside the room, and tears started to roll down her cheeks. She checked Hermione's face for a sign of disappointment, or defeat, but Hermione looked confident now – her chin was up and her mouth slightly open. The spell was causing air to move in the room and Ginny could see papers rustling on the night table.
Finally, the streams of light that were streaking into the Grangers started to change color. It was a deeper, darker red – almost like blood, than it had been in the spell when Ginny had seen it earlier. It flowed upwards from the Grangers, using the pathways of lights as veins, and then, at the top, the veins thickened, blurred and began twisting and turning around each other.
Ginny's head began to pound, and she put both hands over her stomach; she was going to be sick. It hurt. Now that it was being released from the Grangers' bodies, she could feel the residual of the Cruciatus Curse in the air around her - the walls and door could not block it out - Ginny had to struggle to breathe. Was this what it felt like to be hit by an Unforgivable - or was this only half the pain of it? She wasn't screaming, she wasn't on the floor; this couldn't be the whole of it, but it was enough to be torturous. Clutching her stomach and fighting to stay quiet, she leaned heavily on the door and watched as Hermione and Remus continued to work. The Grangers' beds were shaking.
Now the red streaks were forming knots and colliding with brutal ferocity. Instead of bouncing off each other, they coalesced and merged, forming an enormous, rotating ball of anguish and terror, making Ginny dizzy with pain and fear. The Cruciatus was horrible. Horrible. And Ron had suffered it too - Harry had endured it - Remus and Sirius had felt it in their lifetimes - Ginny knew now how lucky she was to have escaped this curse in its full force. She stifled a moan and squinted through the window as the light in the whole room changed to gold, almost as if the sun were rising.
Crack! Ginny stumbled back from the door a few inches, and clutched at her heart. The noise had come from inside the Grangers' room, and with it, the pain in her body lessened by half. She could breathe freely. When she had recovered herself and aligned her face once more with the window in the door, she could see that Hermione and Remus had both jumped back a few inches from the bed as well. Hermione's face was damp and glowing and Remus's hair was plastered to his head, as if the room had filled with moisture. Expecting to see the bluish tears from her earlier view of the spell, Ginny was surprised to see instead that the red ball had split into two pieces and they were both rotating over the Grangers' bodies. A look of comprehension passed over Hermione's face, and she said something to Remus that Ginny couldn't hear.
Together, they raised their wands again, and each pointed them at a different red orb. With a swift downward movement, they both lowered their wands, and the orbs came crashing down to the Grangers, bursting upon impact with their bodies and seeming to diffuse and pulse through them so that it was almost like Ginny was actually seeing an aura with her eyes, rather than feeling it with her mind. She gasped at the beauty of it, and in surprise, because she hadn't been able to sense it when she'd been in the room with the Grangers before. She allowed the door to support her as she continued to watch.
There was a sudden calm. The room seemed instantly to return to its normal lighting and appearance. The papers stopped moving, the bed stopped shaking, and Hermione and Remus returned to their earlier stances of anticipation. Ginny felt incredible relief as the remainder of the residual ebbed away and stopped causing her pain - and then she felt a stab of disappointment. Where were the tears? Hermione was watching something on her mother's face, and Ginny turned her attention there as well.
She gasped.
Tears. She could see them. They were brighter, and more… opaque than her own tears, which continued to wet her face. Mr. Granger had them too. Their eyes were still open, and they still looked terrified, but their faces were damp, and these tears seemed to flow down their cheeks and into their open mouths, as if trying to feed them relief. And then, slowly, the eyelids closed, and for the first time since being hit with the Cruciatus Curse, the Grangers looked almost peaceful.
The tears were rolling down Hermione's face as well, and Remus crossed the room to embrace her. After a moment, he released her and said something that made Hermione laugh. Neither could take their eyes away from the Grangers. The tears had stopped, but not dried, and Hermione fell to her knees and peered closely into her mother's face. Remus looked over the door, and smiled at Ginny. He said something to Hermione, and she nodded, and they both motioned to Ginny to enter the room.
Ginny opened the door cautiously, not wanting to disrupt any magic that might still be floating through the room. Not wanting to walk into any remainder of that horrible curse that might still be in the air.
"Is it … finished?" she asked. The room looked calm, but Ginny stayed back.
"Come closer, Ginny," Remus said, motioning to Mr. Granger. "I think it will be all right if you want to try some preliminary sensing. Don't think of Healing yet. Just assess the situation."
Hermione was still breathing hard; she looked exhausted. "Did you feel anything out there?" she asked faintly.
"No," Ginny lied, and walked over to the side of the bed. She stood still for a moment, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She held her hands over Mr. Granger's head, not knowing what to expect – not expecting to feel anything. But something was there. It wasn't like the knots she'd felt around Harry and Ron. Nor was it like the searing points of pain she'd felt around Draco. This was shapeless, and formless – more like a fog. But thicker. Like a heavy glue or a very-thick potion. It was suffocating. Something was damaged. Physically. The aura was trying to heal but finding resistance and it could not adhere to their bodies. It was the most sickening thing Ginny had ever felt.
Curious, she let her hands hover lower, trying to break through the fog. Her fingers began to tingle, and she could feel something unpleasant swirling beneath them. It was familiar. Ginny realized it was the same pain that she'd felt earlier from the Grangers, but it was weakening. Dissipating. After about a minute, her hands began to throb and she pulled them away with a sharp intake of breath.
When she opened her eyes, Hermione and Remus were staring at her with hopeful expressions. She smiled.
"I think… I think it's working, Hermione."
Hermione looked very much like she wanted to cry, but she kept her lips pursed together. Ginny continued. "I can feel an aura. It's not formed, but it's there. And the pain is still there too, but it's a bit less than it was." She thought for a moment. "Hermione, how often can you perform this spell?"
"I'm not sure. I think that once a day would be all right, but I don't think it would be good to do more than that. It's exhausting for me, so I'd be afraid to try it again right away. I don't want to hurt them."
"That's okay," Ginny said. Walking over to Mrs. Granger's side of the bed, and testing, for a moment, whether the spell had affected her the same as her husband. "If it works this well each time, then I think I can start to work on them soon. If I can get so that I can have at least five minutes on each of them, to start, then I can really help. I hope." She paused and looked away for a moment. There was something else she wanted to tell Hermione, and it wasn't going to be easy.
"What is it, Ginny?" Hermione asked.
"They're… you should just know, Hermione, that I think there's actual physical damage to them. And I have to study that more, because so far, I've mostly been dealing with external sensations and very localized injuries. But this feels… larger, somehow. Like it's in their skin, or their tissue. I think it's going to take a lot of work."
Hermione nodded and squeezed Ginny's hand. "I'll help you research," was all she said, and Ginny laughed.
A knock at the door caused all of them to raise their heads, and Ginny saw Neville Longbottom's round face peering through the window. She smiled and motioned to him to come in. He did so, but stayed back, near the door, away from them. He looked slightly uncomfortable, and, looking around, she could understand why. They all looked a mess – Hermione's hair was sticking out all over the place, Ginny was sure that her own face was red, and the bed, she noticed, had actually moved so that it was sitting at an angle across the room.
"I, er, just came to see how your parents were doing," he said. "I was just down the hall, so I thought…" His voice trailed off. "Are they crying?"
Hermione quickly explained to Neville what they were trying to do. He looked amazed. When she was done, he shook his head. "You've always been brilliant, Hermione," he said, with admiration. Then he turned to Ginny, and his face grew serious. "You're a … Healer. Do you realize… that's… I … " Neville blushed and recovered himself. "I always knew there was something special about you," he said.
"Thanks," Ginny said, feeling pleased.
"I wish you all had been around when my parents… " he started, but something occurred to Ginny, and she interrupted him.
"Neville," she said. "Do you think I could… would you let me see your parents? They're in a better condition than the Grangers, and perhaps I can learn something by comparing them to each other."
"Sure," Neville said, looking, as always, surprised that someone would bother to help him with something. "When?"
"How about now?" she said, and heard Remus sigh behind her. She turned to him and smiled.
"It's Saturday," she said. "This won't take long."
She hugged Remus and Hermione both, and headed down the hall with Neville. The curtains in his parents' room were drawn, and it was very dark. His parents were both sitting at a little table, attempting to play cards, although Ginny wasn't sure how they could see what they were doing.
Neville gave a laugh that sounded almost frustrated. "They're being paranoid," he said. "Although I suppose I can't blame them. Every once in a while, they think someone's going to hex them from that Muggle building across the street. So they cover everything so that they can't be seen."
Ginny touched his arm in sympathy. "That's terrible," she said.
He shrugged. "I suppose. I laugh at them now and they seem to enjoy that. Watch."
Approaching his parents, Neville clapped a hand on his father's shoulder. His father jumped in his chair, and cards went flying everywhere.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" Mr. Longbottom asked.
Mrs. Longbottom screeched.
"I work here," Neville said. "And so does Ginny. She's come to check and make sure that you're okay." Ginny was glad she was wearing her St. Mungo's coat.
"Well!" Mr. Longbottom said. "You certainly frightened me. Anyone could just come in here and hex us, you know. Can't be too careful."
"I think you're being a bit paranoid," Neville said. Ginny had never heard him sound so confident about anything.
"You do?" Mrs. Longbottom said. "Really? But anyone could hide out across the street and hex us. There's that building over there."
"These windows are hex-proof," Neville laughed. "And anyone who comes here has to pass through three security points. Yes. I think you're being a bit paranoid."
The Longbottoms started to laugh as well. "I suppose you're right," Mr. Longbottom said, but when Neville moved to open the curtain, his mother let out another horrified yell.
Neville gave Ginny a look, and walked back over to stand in front of the table.
"Do you need them to lie down?" he asked.
Ginny shook her head. "They're fine like this." She bent on one knee in front of Mrs. Longbottom so that she had to look up at Mrs. Longbottom.
"Mrs. Longbottom," she said. "Can I ask you to sit here, straight in your chair and close your eyes? This won't hurt a bit."
"You're the mediwitch," Mrs. Longbottom said, willingly, and shut her eyes. Ginny closed hers as well and held her hands out to feel the aura in front of her. It was there, floating in a nebulous sea above Mrs. Longbottom's body. It didn't feel normal but it didn't feel anything as awful as the Grangers' either. Slowly, she moved her hands closer and let them rest just inches from Mrs. Longbottom's stomach, trying to draw out a sensation. After what seemed like several minutes, her fingers began to tingle, just as they had for the Grangers, but it was a much more gradual feeling. And then, although she had expected it, she jumped back in shock when she found the residual of the curse, buried deep within Mrs. Longbottom's being.
When she opened her eyes, Mrs. Longbottom was sleeping, and Neville was looking at her in shock.
"Wha – ?" he started to ask, and then, glancing his father, stopped himself. Ginny smiled encouragingly, and moved to repeat the action on Mr. Longbottom. She was starting to feel very tired, and, once she had exacted the same results from Neville's father, she stood and let Neville guide her out of the room.
"Ginny! Are you okay? What happened?" Neville asked, as soon as they were in the corridor. He hurried to guide her to a chair.
"It's been a busy morning," she answered, and, leaning forward, put her elbows on her knees and rested her head between her hands. "It's good though, Nevillie. Your parents seem to have been healing themselves. Slowly. Very slowly. They'd probably never live long enough to heal themselves at this pace, but I think… I think that if I work with them and with the Grangers… well, to know that it's possible even to get as far along as your parents are is a good sign."
"What did you feel?" he asked. "What hurt your hands? I saw you jump."
"It's a residual," Ginny explained. "Remus worked it out. It's like the remnants of a curse – a ghost. The Cruciatus Curse is lingering inside of them. I mean, the spell itself is gone, but the effects of it are continuing to try to destroy them. And they're able to fight back. Their energy is stronger than the residual is. But it's so, so difficult."
"Are they in pain?"
"No. The pain is gone. They're not aware of it." Ginny sat up and gave Neville a hug.
"I can work with them," she said. "I can't promise anything – I don't know what's going to happen – I'm still learning. But we won't know unless we try, will we?"
"Try… you mean, try to heal them?" Neville gazed at her, his face uncomprehending..
Ginny shook her head. "I don't know what I can do for them. I might not be able to do anything."
"Still… thanks for the thought," Neville said slowly, looking a little dazed. He shook himself. "Do you need help getting anywhere? You look really tired."
"Walk me to the fireplace?"
Neville stood and held out his hand to pull Ginny up off the chair. They walked through the corridors in silence, and Ginny felt both triumphant and tired. She had the potential to do great things with this gift, she realized. And the only problem was going to be sorting out how to help everyone without collapsing from exhaustion. When they reached the fireplace, however, she felt a little better, and when she said goodbye to Neville and told him she'd return tomorrow to work on his parents, she only felt true enthusiasm. She'd be all right.
~*~
On the first of March, the Weasley children sat around the breakfast table at the Burrow, slumped over their tea and coffee. A giant pile of eggs sat in the middle of the table, and nineteen colorful candles floated above them.
A bit of wax dripped on Fred's hand as he reached for the spoon. "Mum," Fred rasped. "Insane."
"Too… early…" George stuck his knife into the jam jar as if it were the most difficult thing he'd ever had to do.
Ginny was so tired that she couldn't even speak. She pushed her breakfast aside, folded her arms on the table, and laid her head upon them. She didn't want to complain, because she knew that if she did someone might notice how much she was trying to do, and she couldn't stand to stop doing any of it. Remus didn't know that after he and Hermione had renewed the spell that she'd spent all day Sunday at St. Mungo's, assessing the damage in the Grangers' tissue. It was bad, but at least Hermione's spell had worked. At least their eyes were closed, and Ginny could feel their human auras again. She had begun at their feet, and she hoped that by the time she got to their brains, she'd know what to do. But she had to keep working. Hermione had looked so much happier yesterday.
"Ginny…"
Her name swam toward her through a fog. "Mmph minute," she mumbled, and sighed into her arms. She'd get up. She'd help her mother finish tidying up the house. Adam Hopewell's friends were coming in two weeks, and the Weasleys were home to decide what they wanted to preserve from their childhood rooms and to celebrate Ron's birthday; there would be a family lunch today, and then a larger party in two weeks to celebrate Ginny's birthday as well. She didn't want to preserve much from her room - her Hogwarts letter, her books from Harry, a few trinkets her family had given her. And since Remus had given her a whole day off of classes to do this, she planned to pack up quickly and steal the rest of the time to study for her N.E.W.T.s. She couldn't fall behind. As long as she didn't fall behind, it would be all right.
"Ginny… Ginner Pinner… She's really tired, she can't even hear us."
"No I'm not," she said groggily. "Yes I can." She sat up and took a swig of coffee, though she could hardly see the cup.
"You shouldn't drink that stuff, you know," said George. "It's bad for you."
"Health lectures from the inventor of Canary Creams?" Ginny was pleased when her brothers laughed. Feeling a bit more awake, she gazed out the window in time to see the approach of the family owl. "Look, there's Thoth."
Everyone turned to the window. Poor old Errol had passed away, and Thoth was a young, brown, bright-eyed owl who had yet to struggle with any parcel, no matter how heavy. But Ginny rather missed Errol, molty and sad as he'd been, and she wasn't used to Thoth.
"Daily Prophet," said Bill, grabbing it out of the mail stack. "No ugly headlines today - good start."
"Sports section?" Ron held out his hand.
"Business," said Fred and George together.
As her brothers divided the paper, Ginny picked up the other mail, untied the twine, and unrolled the various bills and magazines. "Witch Weekly wants eligible bachelors to sign up and be fought over by desperate single witches," Ginny said, and tossed the magazine to Charlie. "Have at it."
"Except he's not eligible, is he?" Bill murmured. Charlie hit him in the arm.
But Ginny could no longer concentrate on her brothers. She had just unrolled the March issue of Charmed Life. She looked at the cover for a moment in stunned silence, and then slowly - slowly - she tried to hide it in her lap, under the table.
"Ickle Ginny's hiding her favorite news source," Fred crowed. They all looked at her, and Ginny flushed. "Must be another public snog. We're going to have to string Harry up if he can't behave himself - hand it over."
Ginny sat on the magazine before Fred could snatch it.
"Oooh, must be something really naughty," said Fred, waggling his eyebrows and pushing back his chair. "Shall we have a look, George?"
"Oh, I think so." George stood as well.
"No - seriously -" Ginny gripped the sides of her chair. She knew it was too late to make a run for it. "Please, it's early, don't -"
But they were on either side of her, tickling her and trying to force her out of her seat. Ginny shrieked for help, but the rest of them were clearly entertained; they only cheered the twins on.
"No, no - no - Fred, STOP!" Ginny screamed with laughter. She wouldn't be laughing once they got their hands on Charmed Life. "George, get your hands off - MUM!"
But George, who had no respect, yanked the magazine free. He held it aloft, triumphant, for everyone to see.
The Weasley boys looked. Their faces shifted from amusement to shock, and from shock to horrified disgust.
"You're joking -"
"No they didn't -"
"Not Malfoy -"
"I'll tear his head off -"
"Give me that!"
In seconds, the five of them were on their feet, huddled around the picture. Ginny heard the pages being turned, and then Bill was reading aloud.
"On February eleventh, after a long, hard shift on dragonback, Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy fortune and employee of the Permanent Azkaban Patrol, landed his Chinese Fireball and began his second shift as broomback escort to the Minister's daughter. Virginia Weasley, whom the Ministry has recently discovered harbors rare Empathic gifts, has been spending her afternoons Healing the dragons. Draco Malfoy has spent his afternoons at her side, to protect her from the dragons' dangers while she works. It is common knowledge that the Ministry dragons have been experiencing difficulty and that the P.A.P. has been faulty since the start. But the diligence of Miss Weasley and Mr. Malfoy has paid off; in recent weeks there have been no accidents. The improved atmosphere may be due to Miss Weasley's extraordinary talents."
Bill paused. He seemed to be struggling with the next sentence.
"Or perhaps love is in the air."
"Oh no." Ginny put her face in her hands.
"Spring fever has finally come to Azkaban, and inspired a most unlikely pair of…" Bill stopped. "Of lovers. When the couple is not spooning in plain sight on the back of Malfoy's Firebolt 5, they must conduct their romance in secret, making use of dark pubs like the Leaping Fish, in Stornoway, to further their dark attraction…" Bill stopped again. "I can't read any more of this," he said.
There were more sounds of pages rustling as the magazine changed hands, and a long silence followed. Ginny listened to her heartbeat in her ears, and wondered what she'd done in her past lives to earn the scarlet reputation that the press was so eager to give her.
"I'LL KILL HIM!" Ron shouted presently.
"No, no, he didn't do it," Ginny said, rubbing her head. "Flummery did. Believe me, he won't like it any more than I do."
Charlie broke the huddle and held the magazine close to Ginny's face. "What," he demanded, "does this mean, Ginny?"
She couldn't answer. Her whole brain was taken up with watching the train-wreck spectacle of her hand reaching out to touch Draco's face… of Draco weeping openly… Draco taking her hand and pressing his mouth to her palm… the two of them leaning across the tiny table at the Leaping Fish to kiss in the sloppiest way…
Ginny giggled.
She didn't mean to do it, and all her brothers gasped when she did, but it was just too funny.
"Wow," she said, and giggled again. "Look at him crying. It wasn't like that at all. He's going to be so angry." She imagined Draco's face, when he saw this picture, and began to laugh in earnest. "I'm not looking forward to seeing him today," she said, and pushed the magazine back at Charlie. Feeling wide-awake and strangely entertained, Ginny turned back to munch on her toast.
"Seeing him?" Charlie threw up his hands. The magazine fluttered. "You're never going back there - you think I'm letting you spoon on broomback after reading - after seeing -"
"Oi, Charlie, give it a rest." Fred and George were quick to sit down and resume breakfast. "It's not like it's real, or anything."
"Fanks, Fred!" Ginny said through her toast.
"Or is it?" George asked, shooting her a mischievous grin. "Minister's Daughter Heals Malfoy Heir - is it her rare magic power, or is it something more?"
"Wait a minute." Ginny dropped her toast. "Did it… did it really say all that, about me being Empathic?"
George nodded.
"Oh no," Ginny wailed. "That was supposed to be a secret!"
"Why?" Fred looked unconcerned. "You'll be famous."
"Exactly. The last famous Healers got killed."
Fred and George stared at her.
"Bloody reporter!"
"Ugly old cow!"
"What were you doing in a pub with Malfoy?" Ron's voice was controlled, but his face was red. He sat down next to Ginny and waited.
"Not snogging him," Ginny snapped. "Pass the cream."
"I know you weren't. I know you wouldn't." Ron snorted. "It's - I mean, it's obviously a fake, isn't it, look at your face. It's distorted."
"Also, I don't drool like an animal when I kiss," Ginny said, and giggled again when all her brothers were struck momentarily silent.
"But you were… in that pub with him," Ron said finally.
"Yes."
Ron looked at his plate. "All right … and what were you doing there?"
"Look, if you want to interrogate people, go to work. I don't have to answer you."
Ron gave her a sharp look. "I have good reasons to suspect him, even if he seems to be working like everyone else. You shouldn't be alone with him, no matter what."
She shouldn't be alone, she shouldn't be working on dragons, she shouldn't be honing her skills - Ginny wished she'd put a sausage on her plate earlier. She wanted to spear something with a fork. "I'm not stupid, you know. I know Malfoy just as well as you do, I know all the reasons not to trust him, and-"
"No you don't." Ron took a deep breath and let it out. "And I can't tell you yet. I'm just telling you that you shouldn't put yourself in any more danger than you already have. Don't be alone with him, Ginny. For… for whatever reason." Ron gave her an unsettling, sidelong look. "What was the reason?"
Ginny tossed her head and said nothing. She felt their eyes on her and knew she was only making them more suspicious, but she didn't want them to know she'd been working on Malfoy. If they found out, then Remus would find out, and he'd lecture her, and… Ginny sighed. Remus was going to find out anyway.
"I was working on him, all right?" she said. "That's all."
"Healing him?" Bill asked. He pulled the magazine out of Charlie's clenched hands, and sat down.
"Yes. Because I was finding it hard to be near him and work on the dragons at the same time."
"He let you work on him?"
Ginny shrugged. "I told him I needed the practice."
"And he agreed to help you?" Bill looked surprised. "That doesn't sound like Malfoy."
"It isn't. He did it to annoy Harry."
"Ah." Bill sat back. "So what happened? What'd you feel?"
Ginny shook her head. "That's his business. I've been thinking about what you said about ethics, and I've done some research. Other medical professionals take patient confidentiality oaths, so I took one of my own."
"What, just in your head?"
Ginny nodded. "Yes, I trust myself."
Bill looked disappointed but impressed. "Fair enough."
"Harry knows, then?" Ron glanced at her. "About you in the pub with Malfoy alone and everyth-"
"Harry knows," Ginny said shortly. She didn't want to think about what Harry might do, when he saw this. He had hardly looked at her since she had visited the Notch last week, and she had a bad feeling that this issue of Charmed Life would only make the tension between them worse.
She could still feel Charlie hovering behind her. It was starting to get on her nerves. "Look, would you sit down?" she nearly shouted. "The picture's a fake, I'm going back to work this afternoon, you need me up there, I'm eighteen in two weeks, I'm not in nappies, and I'm sick to death of your attitude!" She looked over her shoulder and up at her brother, and was satisfied to see Charlie's mouth hanging open. "Well?" she said. "It hurts my feelings, the way you've been acting. And it makes Harry feel like he's got a right to act like a prat."
Charlie's face darkened. "Has Harry been a prat to you?"
Ginny sighed. "Oh, Charlie." She turned a bit in her chair, and gave him a friendly punch in the stomach. "Lighten up."
Charlie rubbed his stomach and sat down.
"What's with all the shouting?" Adam raced into the kitchen and straight to Bill's side. "Molly wants to know. Also, she's ready for boxes, we've finished in the attic - say, what's this?"
And to Ginny's horror, Adam snatched Charmed Life from the table, looking like his birthday had come early. He still hadn't forgiven her for Christmas.
"Woo woo!" he cried, darting away when Bill made a grab for him. "Has your mum seen this?" Laughing hard, he pointed at Ginny, then deliberately misread the caption below the offending photograph. "Is it her rare magic power - or is it her tongue?"
"ADAM!" shouted all the boys together, except for Ron, who snickered, despite the disgusted look on his face.
But Adam was gone. "MOLLY!" he called, as he pounded up the stairs. "MOLLY, GINNY'S IN TROUBLE!"
"He sounds like you," Ron said, still snickering at Ginny. "Muuum, look what Ron's done to the carpet… Muuum, Ron's hurting me…" He elbowed her. "This is the best birthday gift of all. Seems you're not the baby anymore."
"Oh yes I am," said Ginny, suddenly defensive of her title. "Tell him, Charlie."
But Charlie didn't have a chance.
"VIRGINIA MARY WEASLEY!"
The Burrow shook with their mother's magically amplified voice. Six Weasley children covered their ears.
"You're done for," said Fred.
"Nice knowing you," said George.
"COME HERE NOW!"
*
Ginny was glad to get outside and go to work. It wasn't cold anymore; rather the air was cool and soft and she shut her eyes to enjoy the smell of the sea before venturing into the dragon camp. She didn't want to explain that picture again. She hoped no one here would ask any questions, though she supposed she didn't have to answer them if they did. There were only a few people who deserved answers. Her mother had demanded a full explanation, but had taken it pretty well, all things considered, and after the first few minutes of shock, her brothers had been great all day. Ron's birthday lunch had been really pleasant, and Charlie had even apologized to her.
Ginny wasn't sure if everyone else would be willing to let the subject drop. Draco wouldn't ask questions, of course, because he knew the truth first hand, and Ginny assumed that he would avoid the topic at all costs. And if Harry even dared to ask questions then he was going to find himself in a lot of trouble. Remus was the only person she was afraid to face.
Ginny strode between the two giant rocks that were the entry to the invisible world of dragons. She put on her gear and went straight to Mordor, whose turn it was to be worked on, and she was relieved to see Draco waiting there as usual. She had rather wondered if he would show up today.
"Oh good. You're here."
"Here," he snarled, "and on every breakfast table in the country."
Ginny blinked. She'd been wrong; he wasn't going to avoid it. He took a step closer to her.
"Was this part of your experiment?"
"Oh yes." She rolled her eyes and stood her ground. "I was so hoping this would happen. My whole family's just as pleased as can be."
He gave her a look of disgust and crossed his arms. "They could not have been more displeased than…" Draco stopped and turned away. "It's been taken care of."
Ginny wasn't sure what he meant, but she knew it couldn't be good. Perhaps he'd had the reporters taken off and tortured - she certainly wouldn't have put it past him. But then she remembered what Ron had said once, about those reporters having been on the Malfoys' payroll, and she narrowed her eyes.
"It's your own fault, isn't it, if this happened?" She glared at him. "Those reporters have been on the spot for some incredible stories, haven't they? Got yourself to blame, haven't you, if it's come round to smack you in the arse?"
Draco looked so angry that Ginny thought he might strike her. "You," he hissed, "have no idea what you're saying, Weasley. And you have no understanding of what it means that every family in Britain has a picture of me kissing a - a -"
"Pureblood?" She couldn't help it.
Draco went whiter than usual, but to Ginny's surprise, he made no retort. He pulled on his gloves, Summoned his broom, and mounted it. "My dragon won't pay for your cheek," he spat, and though he was obviously furious, he moved back to make room for her. "Enough time has been wasted. Get on."
Ginny did. But the satisfaction she usually reaped from turning Mordor's cold knots into warm, smooth energy was less than usual, and she was very glad when they were done. She was glad that the dragons hardly seemed to need her anymore - even Norbert's aura was almost clean again. Perhaps she wouldn't have to do this for much longer. It was worse than ever to be near Draco, and she wished that she could work on him again. But he had never spoken of the pub, until today, and she knew that, thanks to Charmed Life, he probably never would.
"Are you for hire, Weasley?" he asked softly and suddenly, just behind her ear. Ginny jumped. Was he making a reference to the picture? Was he calling her a -
"What does that mean?" she asked coldly. "If it's what I think, then you'd better just land."
He laughed. "I'm not calling you a harlot. My god, do you honestly think I'd solicit you for that type of service?"
"That's it." Ginny put her wand away. "Land. You can't harass me, you signed a contract."
"My shift is over, in any case," he said, and took them gracefully to the ground. "And I was only asking if you wanted to earn a wage as a proper human Healer." He waited for her to step off the broom, and then dismounted. "You misinterpreted. Wishful thinking, perhaps."
Ginny gave him a foul look, then remembered that ridiculous image of the two of them in the Leaping Fish, salivating all over each other. Draco probably did kiss like that. She laughed, and he started.
"That wasn't a joke."
"I know."
His jaw tightened. "I have… a use for your services."
Ginny watched him carefully. Was this for him? His mother? She couldn't yet work it out. "All right," she said, and waited.
He removed his gloves with unnecessary force. "Don't you even care to know what I'm asking of you?"
"Yes. Go on."
He visibly ground his teeth for a moment. "I know what Empaths are capable of," he said. "I will employ you - " and it sounded as if he enjoyed saying so, " - in your capacity as a Healer. On conditions of complete confidentiality." He took a menacing step towards her. "Don't think I can't make you regret a loose tongue, Weasley. No matter the pretensions to power that may have seized your delusional family, I can and will make you regret a breach of contract."
Ginny knew her mouth was open, but it took her a moment to close it. He was letting her try it again. She must have got through to him, the first time. And she really did want to practice, no matter what Ron had said about being alone with Draco. Whatever his reasons, they couldn't have been too bad if he wouldn't even tell her. "All right," she said, when she remembered to answer. "Where do you want to go?"
"You will attend me at my estate," he said. "Be at Malfoy Manor on Saturday, at ten o'clock."
Malfoy Manor. Ginny felt suddenly quite cold. "Be at - where?" she asked, and her voice sounded small to her ears.
Draco smiled - a slow smile, full of enjoyment. "Malfoy Manor, Weasley. You will attend on me there."
"I have another obligation on Saturdays."
Draco shrugged. "Consult your schedule, then. I'm certainly in no hurry." He was lying, and she could feel it. But he turned and walked towards the equipment tent without another word.
Ginny was so absorbed in her thoughts, and in watching the back of Draco's pale, unfathomable head as he sauntered away, that she almost missed seeing Harry. He stood several yards off, wand in hand, and had already changed his clothes. He looked terribly, terribly tired.
Ginny fixed her eyes on him, unsure of what he was feeling. But if the look in his eyes was any indication, then she was fairly certain that she didn't want to know.
Harry ran his eyes over her and returned them to her face. Without a word, he Disapparated.
Stung more deeply than if he had slapped her, Ginny stared at the empty space where he had been, and told herself that he hadn't just done that. He hadn't been there; she'd only imagined it. He hadn't hurt her on purpose.
But he had.
Ginny changed out of her gear. She walked between the giant stones and back out to the empty, silent beach. She sat on the rocks and stared at the sea for a long time, watching it roll and crash, thinking back over her life since Harry had come into it. How rich he had made it. How terribly confusing.
How could he not trust her?
Ginny wrapped her arms around her legs, laid her cheek on her knees, and shut her eyes, listening to the ocean. She'd stood with him at crucial moments. She would have died for him. He knew it. How could he even think that she would be inconstant? She rocked herself, feeling the wind on her face, reliving for the thousandth time her first glimpse of the boy who had stolen her heart on platform nine and three-quarters. She loved him. Openly and totally. With a force that was sometimes humiliating. And she would always love him like that.
Perhaps it was time to accept that, no matter how far it seemed to have come between them, Harry did not love her back. Not with any real faith or strength. Not like she loved him.
Ginny hugged her legs and let her mouth fall open. She felt a strange, sad sound escape her, but it was carried away on a wind and never reached her ears.
~*~
Harry waited in the front room of Lupin Lodge for a long time, Charmed Life clutched in both hands. Remus walked into the room at one point, glanced at what Harry was holding, and walked back out again. Sirius came in a moment later.
"Waiting for Ginny?" he asked quietly from the doorway. He folded his arms. "Harry?"
Harry didn't answer.
"She'll have had a long day when she gets here."
Harry turned enough so that he could only see Sirius out of the corner of his eye. He felt absolutely rigid; there was nothing that Sirius could say to ease it and he wanted to be left the hell alone.
"That's all I'm going to say. For now." Sirius paused. "No, I lied. I have no place - no place giving this kind of advice - but go home and think about this before you start it. Don't say anything until you've thought about it good and hard. You'll regret it. Believe me."
Harry bent the magazine in his fists and focused on the mantelpiece. Fairy lights wreathed the fireplace. Ginny had put them there. He'd watched her do it, and she'd been laughing, shooting him looks over her shoulder from across the room. Looks just like the one she was giving Draco Malfoy on the cover of this issue of Charmed Life.
Harry looked down at the carpet.
"All right, Harry. Do what you like."
Harry heard his godfather leave the room. He heard Sirius and Remus gather their cloaks and leave the house. The door shut softly behind them and left Harry in solitude and silence.
He didn't know how much longer he sat there. The wait felt both endless and brief, and in it Harry's insides churned, cold and heavy. The picture wasn't real. Couldn't be real. He knew that. But it looked real. And did he know her, really? He had thought so… but she was still making private dates with Malfoy. And there was still one, nagging question. The one he couldn't ask.
A soft pop! sent a chill coursing through him. He didn't look up.
"Harry?"
Ginny's voice was close. Without having to look, Harry knew that she was right behind him, at the foot of the stairs. He heard her put her bag on the floor and throw her cloak on the chair beside his, but he turned his face further away and saw only flames, leaping in the fireplace.
"Haven't seen you at all this week. Come to say hello?"
Harry waited for her to drop the sarcasm. He wasn't in the mood.
"Something wrong?"
The quiet precision of her voice suggested that she knew exactly what was wrong, and Harry hated that she wouldn't come right out and say it. Was she playing with him? He unrolled the magazine in his hands and glanced down at its cover. Without turning to face her, he held up his copy of Charmed Life so that she could see the picture over his shoulder.
The room was very still.
"Yes, I've seen it." Ginny's voice was quiet. "Draco's sorry he ever hired those reporters, I'm sure."
"Oh, it's Draco now?" The words tore out of Harry like bullets and he brought his arm down hard, smacking the magazine on the arm of his chair.
There was another awful pause.
"I think that's always been his name." Ginny sounded aloof. Disinterested. "Any more questions?"
Harry couldn't believe that she wasn't denying it. He jostled the magazine. "Did this happen?" he demanded, and made the mistake of glancing at the picture again. Ginny's fingers stroked Malfoy's cheek. Malfoy had his mouth on her hand. He wanted to tear Malfoy's face off and feed it to Norbert; he wanted to hurt him.
"Turn around." Ginny's voice was strangely distant. "You look at me and ask me that."
Harry didn't want to do it, but he stood. He'd been in the same position for so long that his back hurt, and he put his free hand to it. With the other he shook the magazine again. "Did it happen," he repeated flatly, and crumpled the picture hard. He wanted to disfigure that cover so that he couldn't recognize the people on it - he didn't even want to touch it - disgust surged through Harry and he pitched Charmed Life into the fire. Its glossy pages sizzled and it sent a nasty scorching smell into the room.
"Turn around."
Very reluctantly, Harry turned and caught sight of Ginny. One look at her told him that she was not the same girl from the cover of the magazine: her hair was limp, her face was damp as if she'd been sweating, and her eyes were dark and hurt and angry. He could hear her breathing. He could see the tension in her jaw. She was real, and in comparison the picture in the paper suddenly looked like plastic.
Ginny stared at Harry as if she had never fully seen him. "Do you… really need me to answer?"
Harry knew that he didn't. But he shrugged and waited.
"You're serious?"
He glanced away from her and fixed his eyes on the chair where she'd thrown her cloak, not sure what he was driving at. He was infuriating her, he knew that much. And he knew there was no reason for it. But he couldn't stop himself - there was something that had to come out of him, something that had been twisting inside him for longer than he could remember, and it was coming out tonight.
"How can you ask me that?"
Harry wasn't even sure what the conversation was about anymore. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes. Coming out of the pocket of Ginny's discarded cloak was an identification badge, which bore the symbol of St. Mungo's. She'd been working with Hermione's parents. She'd been working with the dragons. She'd been working on Malfoy. And now he knew she had homework to finish; her rucksack was overstuffed with schoolbooks.
"Harry, we were in a picture like that. You and I. And do you honestly think I'd…" She laughed, sounding slightly unhinged. "Have you really been sitting here wondering if I've been off snogging Malfoy in pubs? Yes, Harry. That's exactly it. I've been having it off with Draco and we're going to be married next Tuesday - sorry I didn't get a chance to tell you before, but you know how it is when one's a busy little tart, there's just no time for explanations."
Harry shuddered and gave her a swift, hard look. "Don't talk like that."
"Like what? That's what you're calling me, you're just not saying the words out loud - don't you know me, Harry?" Ginny searched his face. "Don't you know me at all?"
Harry braced himself, and said the truth. "I'm not sure."
He couldn't remember a silence feeling quite like this one. It hurt to stand in it. It was actually painful to watch Ginny's face as it went from pleading to shocked… to ghostly.
"What?" she whispered. For a long time, it seemed to be all that she could say. She looked afraid. "What do you mean?"
He had to ask her. It had been weighing on him for months, and this was as good a time as any other - even better, really, since she was already furious. It might as well be now. "You're a Healer," he said. "You've been one all your life even if you didn't know it and you've also… " He couldn't say it.
"Yes?" Ginny asked faintly.
"You've… liked me." Harry couldn't put it in stronger terms, and he really couldn't look at her now. "From erm. From when you were pretty little." He could hardly hear himself. He knew he was mumbling. "So I've been wondering how much of it…you know, because of the Healing…" Harry stopped. It was too hard.
When Ginny spoke, he could not read her tone. "I'm sorry, but whatever you're saying there, you're going to have to come right out and say it."
Harry could feel himself burning up. "You… don't you know what I'm saying?"
But this time it was Ginny who didn't answer, and Harry felt suddenly stranded. He hadn't realized how much he had come to depend on the fact that she already knew him all the way to his bones - and she did. It spared him having to be this person that he wasn't - this person with emotional things to say and relationship hurdles to clear - he simply didn't know how. He'd never had any practice. It was different for Ron, who had lived all his life in a house where people said what they were feeling and then hugged and made up and went on living. It was different for all of them. None of them knew what it was like to be this trapped, and Harry found himself wanting to lash out at the lot of them.
But it was Ginny he had in the room.
"All right then," he said angrily. "You want me to say it right out?"
Ginny gazed at him and raised her chin.
"Your book says that Healers can spend their whole lives devoted to people who are full of serious pain, and never realize that the only reason they're really devoted to the person is because they're Healers." Harry's chest rose and fell rapidly, and he felt his control sliding further out of his reach with every second. "So what I want to know is, have you fancied me your whole life because of me, or because of some magic?"
Ginny flinched as if he'd struck her. If she had been pale before, she was stark white now, and her hands clenched at her sides. She opened her mouth and closed it, then did it again. Her chest hitched.
"Well?" Harry nearly shouted, when a minute had passed and she still hadn't answered. He'd just asked her the hardest question he'd ever asked anyone - was she just going to stand there? "You told me to say it - can't you say anything back?"
"I…" Ginny looked stunned. "Harry."
"Yeah?"
"I never fancied you."
Harry barked a harsh laugh before he could stop himself. He realized at once that it was unkind, but it was too late. The color rushed back into Ginny's face.
"Are you… laughing at me?" she managed. Her voice shook. "Because I'm telling the truth - I never fancied you, I never liked you, who do you think I am? I loved you, Harry."
Harry jumped.
"I still love you." She didn't seem to know what to do with her hands. "And you think it's magic?"
"Do you even know?" Harry demanded, hurrying to block out the frightening force of the words she'd just said. "It could be, couldn't it? You don't know, you haven't worked everything out with your powers, have you?"
She stared at him. "Haven't I been obvious enough about you?"
The right answer was yes, and Harry knew it, but it wasn't the answer he felt. "So? You might be drawn to me for the same reasons you're drawn to Malfoy - or anyone. How can you really tell?"
Ginny found places for her hands - one she pressed to her stomach and the other to her heart. "For the same reasons I'm drawn… to Malfoy?" she whispered. "Is that some kind of joke?" She looked right at him, obviously incredulous. "Is it really this hard for you to believe that I might just love you?"
Harry made an angry noise, and wished he had something to throw. She was missing the point. "Why can't you just answer the damn question?"
"I did." Ginny didn't look away. "I don't know what I can say. I don't know why words should make a difference. I know you. I was there with you, for Voldemort. I would have -" She stopped short, but Harry knew what she had been about to say.
I would have died for you.
"That's not the same!" The words tore out of Harry, and he didn't even know what they meant. "It's not about Voldemort, it's not about spells - I'm not talking about Expecto Sacrificum - you weren't the only one in that, that was Ron and Hermione and Remus and Sirius, that was necessary, that wasn't for me - that just happened to be me, it could have been anyone with the same - born in the same - anyone could have been Harry Potter. I don't make that difference."
Harry's head pounded. His heart raced. He didn't know what he was saying and it didn't matter, it all had to get said, here and now, though Ginny was gaping him in unconcealed astonishment.
"Dying for me," he spat. "What the hell good is that going to do me - my mum and dad died for me and if I could have had them back and forgot Hogwarts and gone to Dudley's bloody school I would have done it - I lived in a cupboard, for God's sake, and you don't know what that's like, you can't know - "
He was panting now. Beyond his own control. Humiliating words spilled out of him, unstoppable. The dam had burst.
"They didn't even know if I was worth dying for, did they? I was just a baby, I could have turned out a thief or a murderer or something - and I did, I've killed people, I've killed people. Doesn't matter who they were, I did it, didn't I? And I got people killed, good people who weren't supposed to die, and where were the big clever spells to protect them? Why was it so important that I get through all of it? I was supposed to die a hundred times, and there's a good chance that if I had other people would have made it."
Harry put his hands up to his face. He didn't know what was happening to him. He was shaking all over, his breath coming in gasps, and his glasses - he didn't want them. He didn't want to see her anymore, standing there with her mouth open, watching him fall apart. He tore the glasses off his face and dangled them at his side, keeping his other hand over his eyes.
"You've got no reason to care about me. I can't be like you. I'm sick of being sacrificed for, so don't give this to me, whatever it is. I don't want it. I don't want it." Harry kept his eyes hidden. Tight, angry blackness was unraveling in his chest and he ached. He pressed his hand closer to his face, afraid that if he relieved the pressure something would happen that he could never forgive himself for.
"You don't want it?" Ginny asked, so quietly that he could barely hear her. "You don't want me caring about you?"
Harry couldn't move. Every embarrassing thing he'd just said echoed in his head, making him dizzy. He thought he might be sick.
"I'm always going to care about you."
"Well stop it," he managed.
"I can't. You can't choose that for me. That's not a sacrifice for me. And even if it was, I'd make it anyway."
Harry shoved his glasses in his pocket. He needed both hands to cover his face. He never wanted her to see him again. He'd never lost control like that, and he never wanted to lose control like that again - and Ginny was the only person in the world that could drive him to it.
"You need to quit your job," she said, still very quietly. "You can't be around those Dementors anymore, Harry. I mean it."
"You think this is because of the Dementors?" His voice was rough. Harsh. He took his hands down and focused on the blur of her. He was going to lose his balance. Harry fumbled to pull his glasses out of his pocket and put them back on his face, wishing as soon as he'd done so that he had left her blurry and unrecognizable. Her face was full of worry, hurt and love.
"I don't think they're helping," she said, and came towards him. "I think you need a break."
"I'll tell you what I need a break from," said Harry, reaching for something he could understand. He couldn't let himself spiral back down into the place where he'd just been, and he had to get out of here. Now. "You on that broom with Malfoy."
Ginny hesitated, then reached up and pushed his hair gently away from his forehead. Harry shut his eyes and felt her fingers, cool on his hot, sweaty skin. He was being horrible to her. Horrible. But the black knot in his chest wasn't half-gone - it lingered and made him feel ill. There was more to say. He dropped his head, and his forehead touched her shoulder.
"Ginny." It was all the apology he could manage.
"You know I've never touched Malfoy."
He nodded into her shoulder.
"And you know I love you."
He didn't nod, or move from his slumped position. He touched the outside of her arm and dragged his fingers haphazardly to her wrist.
"You do know that, don't you?"
But the truth was that he didn't. He knew that she meant whatever she was saying, but he had no idea what it really meant to be loved like she loved him. It wasn't like friendship - Ron and Hermione weren't going anywhere, not if they hadn't gone already. But Ginny was something apart from that, and it frightened him to believe in her kind of love because she had the power to take it away. She could die. She could be killed. She could leave. She could decide he wasn't all he was cracked up to be. He already knew that he wasn't.
"Didn't you save my life?" she whispered, and put her arms around his neck. "Harry, listen to me, I love you."
More than anything he wanted to allow it in. As much happiness as she'd given him, he had never allowed her in - not far. Not this far. He knew it was what she wanted - or what she said she wanted - but he didn't reach to hold her back. Whatever she was offering, it was stronger than he was; if it came into him and then left, it would kill him.
Ginny held him against her for a long time, her hands soft on his back. She didn't seem to care that he was unresponsive. When she pulled away, she softly kissed his cheek… the corner of his mouth… the side of his neck… And then she sniffled and took a step back, separating herself from him.
Harry focused on her face and a nasty chill ran through him.
She was crying.
"I think we need to take a break," she managed. "From each other. Because I know exactly how I feel and it's too hard, knowing that you don't."
Harry couldn't breathe.
"I do love you - but it's… it's all right if you don't love me, Harry." She smiled weakly through her tears, and touched the front of his jumper. "I always knew it was a long shot. I know you care about me. I know we're friends. And I'll always be glad we had… something."
He had no idea how to answer.
"Just… when you've sorted out how you do feel…" She took her hand off his jumper and swiped at her eyes. "Let me know, all right?"
She turned away at once, still swiping at her cheeks. Harry stood in shock as Ginny collected her cloak and bag from the chair, and walked up the stairs to her room.
Her door clicked shut. There was a thud, as if she'd dropped her bag to the ground. Harry stood and listened, unable to move or think, until there was a creak of bedsprings and a low, anguished moan that he didn't want to identify.
Slam.
Harry spun towards the front hall. No. Sirius and Remus. He couldn't face them, he didn't want questions. Especially not when he could hear Sirius almost right away.
"Wait. I'll check and see if Harry's still -"
But Harry didn't wait to be found. He pulled his wand, gathered the only shred of concentration that remained to him, and got out.
