A/N: Big thanks to you if you reviewed; to the other four hundred and something people who read the last chapter, what gives?
I jest. But it would be very nice of you to review. I hope that the reader who bemoaned the lack of plot last chapter is more satisfied this time around; and if not, the next chapter should definitely do it. Major happenings coming up (including the truth about the mysterious 'week before'). But, for now, I hope you all enjoy this.
P.S. Upped the rating for a touch of language. (Wash that mouth out, Ginny.)
Love Will Come Through
Chapter Eight: The Right Thing To Do
"What did she say?"
It was half an hour later, and crowds of students were milling about: the school day was over, and snatches of loud discussions overheard included subjects such as homework, Quidditch, the weather- rain was still battering fiercely against the castle- and dinner. Ginny felt shades of guilt as she had sat beside Neville watching her classmates go by, responding weakly to their cheerful, inquisitive greetings and feeling relieved when they had been swept off by the History of Magic class who emerged nearby with the requisite yawns and grumbles of people who had just been rudely awoken.
As Ginny had heard Harry click the door shut behind her, she had suddenly remembered why she and Neville had been so desperate to find him in the first place, and so she yanked the door open and ran after him, though he had barely taken a dozen steps in the moments since leaving the hospital wing. He had been perplexed by Professor McGonagall's request to see him, but listlessly let Ginny lead him to the headmistress' office, let her give the password- "Exploding Gumballs"- and had disappeared up the stone staircase. Dutifully, Ginny had sat herself down on a bench just down the corridor, waiting out the uneventful half hour in silence, comforted just by the presence of Neville beside her.
And now he had emerged, only seconds before a large herd of chattering girls had come surging down the corridor- and of course, their wagging tongues had immediately started working overtime on seeing Harry Potter walking towards a plaintive Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom. Ginny, as usual, tried her best to ignore them, and shepherded Harry into an alcove, which, she quickly concluded, was about as private as they were going to get.
Harry scratched his face nonchalantly as he looked at her. "She told me to be careful," he said vaguely, which Ginny found infuriatingly cryptic.
"About what?"
He shrugged. "Hermione… the memories," he said. "She said what Luna did was very dangerous," he added, raising an eyebrow.
Ginny bit her lip. "Luna didn't know that Harry, she can't have," she said imploringly.
"I know that," Harry replied rather flatly. "But she still said it."
Ginny frowned. "And that took half an hour?" she pressed.
Harry shrugged. "Well, she span it out a bit more than I did," he said calmly, meeting her eyes, but Ginny couldn't help feeling he was not telling her something.
She decided it was probably best to let it drop for now, especially since people kept jostling against her shoulder. She glared at Ernie Macmillan's back and said, "Okay. So now what?"
Harry sighed. "I should go and see Professor Flitwick for the work I missed," he said resignedly, and Neville nodded in agreement.
"Okay," said Ginny again, "I have work to do too; shall we go to the library? Not so many people staring there," she added, staring pointedly at the passing Dennis Creevy, who quickly stuffed his camera back into his bag and ran off. Neville and Harry both nodded silently in agreement and the three of them slid into the thinning crowds, all too aware of the reasons behind the hushed whispers that seemed to follow them all the way to the Charms classroom and onto the library.
*~*~*
The hours in the library merged into days, and before any of them knew it the weekend had arrived. The fact of Hermione's sudden awakening from her coma quickly became talk of the school. Hermione herself was retained in the hospital wing, though, true to form, she ordered Neville to bring her all the work she had and was missing, and whenever Ginny visited her, she had been scribbling anxiously with a quill or reading a book at what seemed like the speed of light.
Harry also submerged himself in his work, and seemed to spend every hour except his classes in the library, occasionally venturing down to the kitchens when he felt the need for food. Ginny knew this rather hermit-like attitude was born less out of dedication to succeeding in his NEWTs than the need to escape prying eyes. Still, she couldn't blame it- still the whispers and pointing continued, and it seemed that she was of as much interest to Hogwarts' gossip circles as Harry and Hermione. Lavender Brown seemed to be stalking her, her beady eyes appearing around every corner Ginny walked by. Ginny resisted the impulse to Bat Bogey Hex her into the next century.
Ron, strangely enough, was barely seen at all- Neville told her that he appeared with his usual surly attitude in every lesson, but he talked to no one except the teachers, and had exploded an ink bottle right in Seamus's face when Seamus had dared to use the word "Hermione" in front of him.
The horrendous weather continued into Saturday morning, the now expected sight of billowing black clouds greeting Ginny as she entered the Great Hall for a late breakfast. It was a Hogsmeade day, a chance to buy Christmas presents before the holidays began the following weekend, and Ginny knew she was late. The hall was deserted, but remnants of food still lay in dishes, and she plucked the last few pieces of toast from their racks, and spooned some scrambled eggs onto her plate, alone at the Gryffindor table, shivering as cold winds blew in from the open doors of the Entrance Hall, where Filch was signing students out to the village below the castle.
She looked around. There was a small gathering of young Hufflepuffs animatedly discussing Quidditch at their table, a few lonely Slytherins spotted along down their benches, and one fifth year Ravenclaw intently reading a fat book while chewing absently on a piece of bacon. Faintly, through the window, she could see a trickle of students walking towards Hogsmeade, umbrellas bowed over their heads as the rain battered down upon them. Christmas, it seemed, made it worth venturing out even in this dreadful weather.
Neville had been lounging in the common room waiting for her when she had finally emerged from the dormitories, battered by a restless night's sleep- Harry's face circulated in her dreams- and would be coming down soon, promising to round up some umbrellas for the pair of them. Harry had already vanished to the library, apparently- he'd owl-order presents, he'd protested, he just wanted to work. Nothing either of them had said could persuade him otherwise, and Ginny knew better than to push him too hard.
Satisfied with her rapidly consumed breakfast, Ginny went out to linger by Filch, waiting for Neville to appear. She shivered against the cold, but students were still being checked out, so the door was kept lodged open. They were all wrapped in warm, impervious clothes, most looking like an enlarged version of Ginny's beloved Pygmy Puff, rather round and bouncy.
It was as she impatiently watched the marble staircase for Neville that she saw a startling sight. Ron- and it was a strange enough sight just to see him, given that no one seemed to have seen him for several days outside of his dormitory or the classrooms- was stood just along from the top of the staircase, and he was smiling- an even stranger occurrence. A thick supporting arch blocked Ginny's view of his companion, so she edged sideways, away from Filch.
She almost laughed. Luna! The blonde oddball was, like the rest of the student body, trussed up in protective clothing, but it was of Luna's distinct styling- her clear plastic anorak was reminiscent of a shower curtain with its goldfish pattern (Ginny wouldn't have been shocked if it actually was a shower curtain), and she wore knee-length boots that seemed to be made, somehow, out of cork.
Ron didn't seem bothered by Luna's get-up; indeed, he laughed again, and the luminous smile that lit up Luna's face made for a fascinating scene.
Of course, it was at this moment that Neville decided to appear, umbrellas held aloft as he yelled Ginny's name from the top of the staircase, making Ron's smile vanish in a flash and his neck to snap round to stare, rather viciously, at Ginny. She went slightly pink but stuck her tongue out in reply, gesturing Neville to get down the stairs quickly, turning away from Ron's glare and hurriedly getting Filch to sign them out, and they set off into the treacherous storm, gripping their umbrellas firmly as the wind tried its best to get them out of their hands.
The streets of Hogsmeade were surprisingly busy, though it was generally hunched figures running from one shop to another, an increasing number of bags clutched in their hands as they progressed down the street. Ginny had the bright idea of shrinking all her purchases to make them manageable, and so it was with surprisingly free hands that she and Neville entered what was formerly Zonko's Joke Shop- and what was now the second branch of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.
The shop was packed to the brim, and Ginny was barely able to breathe as she squeezed past various dripping figures, all chattering excitedly over Fred and George's hilarious creations, to the back of the shop, where she noticed a pretty blonde witch who looked like she'd been awake for several days at the counter, till ringing continuously. Neville, who Ginny suddenly realized was no longer behind her, must have either become distracted or stranded, for he was nowhere to be seen amongst the enormous crowds. Ginny rapped on the door marked 'PRIVATE' and waited.
"Who the hell is that?"
"Oh, Matilda's probably confused again; I swear, someone's putting Confundus Charms on that girl."
"George, don't be cruel, she's been working triple overtime for Merlin's sake!"
"Just answer the door."
The door opened and Ginny grinned up at her brother, whom she assumed from their banter must be Fred- it was hard, even for her, to tell the difference on first glance. His eyes widened and his face lit up, and he pulled her into an enormous hug.
"George, it's the bane of our existence!"
"Ron's here?"
Ginny laughed; Fred shepherded her inside and closed the door on the noisy crowds. The back of their shop was much smaller than its equivalent in their Diagon Alley shop, but Ginny knew that was because most of their work was done there; they were only here today to take full advantage of the Hogwarts crowd.
George grinned at his sister and bounded off his chair to pull her into an identical hug. "Gosh, Gin, how nice of you to visit us!"
Fred lounged back on his stool lazily and winked at her. "Yeah, better than that grouch we call Ronald," he said archly. "How is the idiot lately?"
Ginny grimaced. "Idiotic."
Fred gave his brother a mock gasp. "George, I think Gin's making a joke!"
"Never! That's our business, Gin, stay well away."
Ginny laughed. It was good, in the face of Ron's unstable cruelty, to remind herself of how fun her family could actually be.
George's face softened. "But seriously, Gin, how is he? He hasn't been replying to our owls."
"Yeah, we thought of sending him a howler, but we were afraid he might internally combust from the embarrassment," Fred chipped in.
Ginny perched herself on a table and shrugged. "I've barely seen him," she said. "No one has. Ever since Harry and Hermione went off to fight You-Know-Who, he's been a moody arse."
Fred laughed. "Sounds like our Ronniekins."
George leant forward, the strange contraption in his hands forgotten. "And how are the famous dark-wizard-busting couple?" he asked. "The wizarding world is abuzz with rumour."
Ginny frowned. "What do you mean?"
Fred waved a newspaper airily. "Don't you read the Prophet, Gin? Herms is front page news," he said, holding up the headline for Ginny to read: 'Heroine Hermione Healthy Again'.
Ginny sighed. "Don't they have anything better to write about?" she said vaguely, rolling her eyes tiresomely.
"Gin, she did just help defeat the darkest- and ugliest- wizard ever known to magical kind," George reminded her.
Fred grinned. "And she is the romantic interest of the Boy Who Lived," he added helpfully.
Ginny's face fell. Her brothers immediately realized their mistake and hopped off their stools to sit on either side of her.
"Sorry, Gin," Fred said, stroking her hair softly. "We can be careless arseholes sometimes, can't we George?"
"Sometimes?" Ginny said, smiling slyly.
Fred hit her lightly on the arm. "Last time I try and comfort you," he said with an arched eyebrow.
George put his arm around Ginny's shoulders. "No progress with Harry, then?"
Ginny shook her head. "The only thing that almost worked was, for one, apparently extremely dangerous, and two, Ron fucked it up," she said, spitting her last words out venomously.
George tutted. "Such language from such an angelic face," he joked. Ginny hit him. "Ow."
Fred bit his lip. "What did he do?"
"Well," Ginny began, "Luna told us about this kind of wand circle-"
"Wait, Luna? Ginny, she's a lovely girl, but she's not exactly the sharpest wand in the circle."
"You'll be on the receiving end of the sharpest wand in the circles' sharp end if you don't let me finish."
"Sorry."
"Anyway, it needed five of us to make the circle with all our wands pointed towards Harry. We had Harry, Luna, Neville and me, but we were one short, so I, foolishly, thought Ronald"- she spat this word out as if it were a deadly poison- "was really a good person, so I… kind of forced him into it. But he dropped the wand just when it looked like it was working."
George shook his head. "I think, Fred, we need to have a word with dear Ronald," he said quietly.
Fred nodded. "Indeed."
George looked at Ginny. "Is he here? Did he come to Hogsmeade?"
Ginny nodded. "He came with Luna, a bit behind Neville and me."
Fred's mouth opened slightly and he held up a hand. "Wait a minute," he said slowly. "Firstly, Luna? And secondly, you're here with Neville? What happened to Harry?"
Ginny flushed, hoping- without much conviction- that her brothers wouldn't notice. "Harry," she said carefully, "didn't want to come, and with all the pointing and whispering he's been getting I don't blame him," she said, looking crossly at Fred. "Neville is my friend. And Luna… well, I have no idea what's going on there, but he seemed to be getting along pretty well with her."
George cleared his throat. "Well, at least he'll be easy to spot if he's with Luna," he said with a grin. He leapt down off the table and disappeared into the storeroom.
Fred took this rare opportunity of solitariness to talk quietly to Ginny. "And how are you?" he asked softly, rubbing his sister's arm.
She shrugged. "Okay, I guess. I mean, it's not easy, people seem to find me as fascinating as Ha-"
"I mean about Harry," he interrupted.
She blushed again. "I don't know what you mean," she said, looking away to where she could hear George bustling about.
Fred raised an eyebrow. "I know it can't be easy, you know," he said quietly. "Watching him so confused, that little part of you thinking this could be your chance," he whispered, voice getting lower, so that Ginny could barely hear him over the loud sounds of George swearing as something fell loudly on top of him.
Ginny bit her lip and looked up at her brother, frowning slightly at him. "How the hell do you know so much about me?"
Fred smiled and tapped his nose. "I'm not as stupid as our mother thinks," he winked.
They both looked up as George emerged, his arms laden with boxes. He grinned over them at Ginny. "We figured you'd need presents," he said. "I hope you're good at shrinking charms."
Ginny laughed, shaking off her depressing thoughts. "Where do you think all my chocolate is?" she grinned, jumping down from the table and waving her miniscule shopping bags in front of his face. She pulled her purse out of her inside pocket but George shook his head.
"You're our sister, you don't pay," he said vehemently.
Ginny rolled her eyes. "I'm a customer," she said insistently. "And besides, I like to know I bought people's presents with my own money," she said, picking some Galleons out and pressing them into George's hand.
George sighed with a smile. "Oh, alright then, sister dear, I suppose we'll have to accept your money," he said with mock sadness.
Fred grinned. "Yeah, we'll put it towards our million Galleon mansion," he said with a wink. "Here, take some for Neville," he added, piling some more boxes into Ginny's arms. "He'll appreciate them, they're all… Herbologically related," he said, waving his arms about wildly as he made up a new word.
Ginny laughed. "You two are the stupidest pair I've ever met," she said, and Fred stuck his tongue out childishly at her. Opening the door, she saw Neville lingering by a display of potted plants- god knows what they did, she thought to herself- but Fred put a hand on her shoulder before she could move and leant down to her ear.
"We'll talk to Ron, okay?" he assured her. "And be careful. You know the right thing to do."
Ginny nodded. "I know. I'm doing it. But it's hard."
*~*~*
Harry threw down his quill. It was no use. He could not think of a single word to fill up the final six inches of Snape's blasted essay. But of course, the bastard wouldn't accept it unless it was the exact length he'd requested- hell, if Harry had done a foot extra Snape would probably have given him detention for not listening to instructions properly. Three feet was the task- two feet would not do, and four feet would not do. It had to be three.
Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He looked furtively around, but there was no one to be seen nearby- the entire school had gone to Hogsmeade, it seemed, even in this weather, although Harry was sure that first and second years weren't actually allowed to go- though they were hardly going to spend their Saturday in the library, he realized bitterly.
He angrily snapped the myriad of books before him closed and packed up his bag, deciding the best course of action for his stupid Potions essay was to ignore it. Well, not best- perhaps easiest. He was fed up with work, but it felt like it was the only thing keeping him going. It was easier to concentrate on the perfect transfiguration of Neville into chair than to ponder all of Ginny's memories. It was easier to memorize the eleven rules of the Fidelius Charm than wonder why Ron was so bitter. It was easier to learn the entire chronological list of Goblin Kings than think about what Hermione was doing right at this very moment.
"Hello, Harry," said a small voice.
He looked slowly up. He already knew it was her; that voice haunted his dreams, even if he didn't let it haunt his thoughts any more. She was leaning against the bookshelf, a gentle expression on her glowing face, a thick furry sweater looking better on her than it had any right to look on anyone.
He gave her the strongest smile he could muster, which, he was glad to see, seemed to suffice, for she sat down on the chair opposite him, resting her hands on the edge of the table.
"What are you doing here?" he asked quietly.
"I was looking for you," she said, and he felt his heart jolt. "Ginny said you didn't want to go to Hogsmeade?"
Harry shrugged and bit his lip. "People… staring… weather," he mumbled, looking down at his pile of books, which he was now wishing he'd left open.
Hermione's hand moved nearer. "What?" she said, with definite amusement in her voice.
Harry chewed his lip harder. "It's raining," he remarked vaguely.
Hermione chuckled. "Yes, it is," she agreed quietly. She looked down at his pile of books. "What were you working on?"
Harry looked up again. "Snape's essay," he replied. "I could only do two and a half feet," he added sadly.
Her hand moved yet closer. "I could have a look…" she said softly. "You know, if you like," she amended quickly at his inscrutable face.
He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage and pushed his parchment across the table to her. "Sure."
He watched her, chewing absently on the end of his quill as she read through his work, vague hums emanating from her lips. This was the Hermione he recognised from Ginny's memories- hardworking, focused, and deliberate.
"You did this a lot for me," he said suddenly, and she looked up, quill swivelling as it lost its place in her mouth. "Looked at my work," he explained, and her face cleared as she understood. "I saw it in Ginny's memories."
She smiled, and again he saw the painful mixture of sadness and love in her eyes. "Yeah," she said softly, gazing at him for a moment; then she looked back down again, and the moment was lost.
The next few minutes passed in silence, apart from the cries of the wind behind the distant window, and eventually Hermione reached the end of his essay and looked up at him, face still focused. "This is good," she said, a trace of surprise in her voice. "Really good. You could spin out the effects of the aniseed and poppy a bit more, that should get you an extra half foot."
He smiled gratefully. "Thanks," he said, pulling the parchment back across and scrawling her advice down in tiny letters on the back. He rolled it up and slid it into his bag, and looked up at her again.
She was looking at him, her eyes slightly out of focus, her lips drawn in a tiny, gentle smile. For a moment she seemed to be looking not at him, but into him; and he stared back, almost transfixed by her deep eyes, her smooth, pale skin. Then they both seemed to stir at the same moment; Harry shook his head lightly and flushed.
"Um, why were you looking for me?" he asked, feeling that familiar tension settle over them again.
She started. "Oh, yes," she said, blushing herself now. "I, er, wondered if you wanted to try using the Pensieve with me," she said, smiling quickly.
That caught him by surprise. His eyes widened. Did he? He'd spent the past few days trying to avoid all thought of Hermione, of his lost memories. Could he face seeing them now, and with her? But he had to start somewhere.
He bit his thumbnail nervously, looking at her and knowing she was waiting for an answer. "Okay," he said finally, and her face brightened with clear relief. She stood up.
"Come on then," she said.
*~*~*
Hermione could feel Harry standing behind her, sense his nervous, unbalanced stance, and it distracted her. The thick stone basin stood in front of them, its liquid slowly rotating before their eyes, a glassy, sparkling, translucent soup.
Hermione lifted her wand to her head and focused; carefully, she drew the shining silver hair from her head, and dropped it into the liquid.
It darkened slightly, and both Harry and Hermione leant forward as murky shapes appeared, and, even though they remained blurred and opaque, Hermione knew they were her and Harry. She looked sideways at him, her face a question.
Wordlessly, he let her hand entwine with his, and they dipped their heads towards the basin. Then they were hurtling through nothingness, both landing cleanly on a dusty wooden floor.
It took a few moments for Harry to recognise his new surroundings: it was the Burrow, Ron's house, although, as he looked around, eyes startled by the darkness, he noted that Ron was nowhere to be seen. In fact, only he, Harry, was present in this memory, sitting curled up in an armchair, a single candle flickering beside him, his face drawn in mournful sadness.
Hermione gestured to the present Harry and together they sat down on the floor; it was eerily weightless, and Harry felt like he was floating, despite the fact that, when he touched it, his wrist flexed at the floor's existence. He was there, his body obeyed the usual rules, and yet he couldn't feel any of it.
Suddenly Harry realized that, since this was Hermione's memory, she must be here somewhere; and, sure enough, the sound of footsteps immediately became apparent, and the figure of Hermione- looking less worn and harried than she did now- appeared on the bottom step of the rickety staircase.
"Harry?" the Hermione of the memory whispered. "What are you doing down here?"
Harry just looked up at her, his eyes reflecting the flickering glow of the candle, and the Harry sitting of the floor noted with alarm that his past counterpart had tears in his eyes.
The past Hermione had clearly noticed this too, for she gave a small gasp and ran over to him, kneeling beside him and taking his hand in hers. "Oh, Harry," she breathed, her other hand reaching up to wipe his eyes. Harry seemed so depleted that he simply let her; a tear was stirred by Hermione's movements and trickled down his cheek.
"Harry, you can't do this to yourself," Hermione whispered, so quietly the present Harry had to strain to hear her. "You need sleep; you need rest." She paused. "It's not healthy."
The past Harry gave a little snort of derision. "Healthy?" he echoed hollowly. "For god's sake, Hermione, I don't care about my health right now."
Hermione sighed and shuffled forward slightly. "Harry," she said softly, "it's not your fault. I know you think it is, but it's not… and if you keep blaming yourself, you'll fall apart."
Harry looked at her sadly. "I'm already falling apart, 'Mione," he said in what was probably the most depressed voice Harry had ever heard. "I had a family, a real family… and now he's gone."
Hermione looked startled and shuffled yet further forward. "Harry, no!" she said in an urgent whisper. "You still have a family." She carefully brushed a tendril of Harry's hair from his eye. "You have Mrs Weasley, and Remus, and Ron…" She paused, tentatively moving her hand to his cheek. "And me."
Harry, the real one, sitting on the floor watching himself, suddenly realized two things: first, he had a swimming vision of Sirius, his raggedly-faced godfather, gasping in surprise and toppling, vanishing behind a wispy veil; secondly, he knew, unequivocally, exactly what was about to happen between the two people before him. He looked sideward at Hermione; tears were streaming down her face.
He looked back at the memories of himself and Hermione before him; they seemed to have frozen, their tearful eyes- for Hermione's eyes were lined with tears too, now- just staring at each other, her hand stuck to his cheek, and Harry saw the tip of her thumb softly caress the memory's face. She had straightened up, still kneeling, so that their heads were together, and, ever so gently, she touched her forehead to his, the light of the candle blocked, so that his face was suddenly deep in shadow.
Harry felt as if he watching it slow motion; it seemed several minutes before, gradually, nervously, the memory of him slowly moved his head, lips brushing softly against Hermione's; and it seemed her lack of rebuttal was all he had needed, for the kiss deepened, Harry's hands going up to Hermione's cheeks, seeming to drink her in, desperation and neediness prevalent in his actions… he slid off the chair and they were kneeling beside each other, faces aglow in the dying candlelight, silence enveloping their sweet, unbroken embrace-
Naturally, it seemed to Harry, the kiss came to an end, the foreheads of the Harry and Hermione of the memory still resting against one another, and the words they spoke were whispered, private, and Harry almost felt he shouldn't be listening.
"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly, and Hermione laughed softly.
"Sorry?" she said quietly, amusement in her voice. "Why are you sorry?"
Harry brushed at his eyes, water dripping onto his fingers. "I shouldn't have done that…" he said eventually. "Pushing myself on you… making you feel guilty…"
Hermione put a finger to his lips. "What if I wanted you to do it?" she said, smiling slightly.
Harry's head moved back from her, looking at her with surprise. "You… wanted…"
Hermione put a hand back on his cheek. "I've wanted that for a long time, Harry," she admitted tenderly. "I just never thought you felt the same."
Harry closed his eyes for his second, as Hermione's fingers caressed his cheek. "You could've said something," he said, smiling. Hermione laughed lovingly and leant forward, and it was as their heads rested against each other once more that the scene started to dissolve.
And then Harry felt himself flying upwards, and, only a moment before they entered the nothingness, Harry glanced at Hermione; face stained with tears, she smiled sadly at him, and he felt his heart ache.