Hello everyone and welcome to chapter two! I appreciate the reviews I received for the first chapter and hope getting to see more of Harry and Ginny's relationship will inspire you to tell me what you think.
Many thanks go to Melindaleo, Cackling Stump, and Mutt n Feathers for their edits and suggestions.
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A Time for Healing | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:None Genres: Romance Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 211 Summary: In the early summer of 2005 Ginny Weasley watches a lone figure walk past her window. She sets a bouquet of flowers on her window sill. Will the young man she’s set them out for understand what she’s saying with flowers? Hitcount: Story Total: 30564; Chapter Total: 1861 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: |
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Harry leaned against his bathroom sink dressed only in a towel and watching the magical razor “de-fuzz”–Hermione’s term–his face in the mirror. When the spell ended, he deftly caught the razor as it dropped towards the sink and the mirror declared him presentable for the day. “Thanks,” he muttered, mentally preparing himself for the next part of his daily routine, the part that made him wonder if any woman would ever want to look at him again after seeing his body: the cursed scars from his battle with Voldemort were a revolting sight. Over time, Harry had become inured to the small lacerations that marked his chest and upper arms, the ones Voldemort had used to try to wear him down. He remembered only the pain of the first few of these, they were just the warm-up for what was to come and had not worn down his determination as his opponent had hoped. The duel had been vicious with each man scoring multiple hits on the other. It was towards the end, when the two had been throwing brutal, high-powered curses at each other that Voldemort had nearly ended the fight. Hermione had just succeeded in killing the snake, Nagini, the last Horcrux, when Voldemort landed the curse that had raked open Harry’s abdomen. With his strength quickly draining along with his blood, Harry had cast his last spell, ending the duel and his opponent’s life. Voldemort fell, mortally wounded, and Harry had known no more until he’d awoken from his coma nearly a year later. Harry now looked down at his body, and gently touched the topmost of the three diagonal scars that started just under his left armpit and ended on his right hip. The ropey scar felt weird to the touch, quite unlike the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. There was no pain in the scars: it was all internal. While the Healers had managed to repair most of the damage done to his internal organs and then closed the wounds, it would be years before Harry had any relief from the constant pain of the spell; the damage done to his body was too great. Voldemort had wanted to give him a lasting reminder of their battle, but Harry was just as determined that the pain would not keep him from living the life for which he’d worked so hard. Still, the sight of the scars repulsed him and made him wonder if he should have given in and died instead. With that thought, he reached for his shirt and hid the evidence of battle. Half an hour later, he was standing just inside the safe zone surrounding number twelve, Grimmauld Place, ready to begin his morning walk. He felt more energized this morning than he had yesterday and wondered if the prospect of seeing his new friend was the cause. * Mornings were not Ginny’s favourite time of the day. They never had been, especially if they started off incredibly early like hers did, courtesy of her job and the mode of transportation she employed to get to work. Funnily enough, once she entered the hospital, her demeanour changed almost instantly because she couldn’t wait to greet her patients and help them get on with their lives. This morning, however, she was ready for work just a little earlier than usual, her cup of tea at her elbow and her newspaper folded just so. The only difference between today and any other morning was that she was facing the window instead of her flat. She wanted to know the exact point at which Harry entered her street. She hoped that they could walk as far as the nearest Underground entrance together. Harry turned the far corner of her street right on time, a little early, in fact. Ginny left her empty mug and the newspaper on the table, grabbed her handbag, the box with the birthday cake in it, and her keys and was locking her door just as Harry stopped in front of her building. “Good morning,” they exclaimed at the same time and shared smiles of greeting. After a short pause, Ginny spoke first. “Are you feeling better this morning?” Harry replied that he was and asked, “Are you taking the Underground to work this morning?” “I am,” she replied as they fell into step. “I’ll come with you as far as the stairs, then,” Harry said. They filled the time they had together getting to know one another a little better. Ginny told Harry about her numerous brothers and the Weasley family farm in Devon. Harry mentioned growing up with his mother’s sister’s family in Surrey. He made the experience sound rather awful, even though he offered no specifics. By the time they reached the Underground entrance, they had agreed to meet in this exact spot at the end of her shift with the thought of trying the new bistro that had opened down the street from the Underground stop. “You’ve been rather chipper today, Ginny,” one of the other nurses commented eight hours later as they changed into street clothes at the end of the day. “I have?” she asked, surprise. “Yes, several of the patients noticed the smile on your face early this morning, you know, the one that’s never gone away, and asked me what I’d put in your coffee to make you smile so much,” her co-worker commented. “You’ve been humming on and off all day, too.” Ginny thought about it for a moment and realized that she had been humming while she worked. She also knew that she wanted to keep her friendship with Harry to herself for a little while. “I’m just happy today.” “Hmph. There’s more to it, I say,” the other nurse pressed. “Meet anyone lately?” Ginny sighed happily. “You guessed it. I made a new friend yesterday and we’re meeting for dinner later.” “Good for you, girl! Have fun tonight!” “I plan to,” was Ginny’s heartfelt reply. She banged her locker shut, then fairly flew out of the changing room and out of the hospital in her eagerness to get to the Underground to meet Harry. * Hermione breezed into the Grimmauld Place kitchen at lunchtime, bringing a sack of bananas, sandwiches, crisps and two bottles of Coke from the corner shop. She began talking as soon as the kitchen door banged open. “I know you aren’t hungry, Harry, but you must try to eat something. I brought you an egg salad sandwich, since those seem to stay down if you eat them slow enough. We haven’t had fizzy drinks in a while, so if you want to try it, I brought a bottle for you. If you want water, we can always save it for when Seamus comes over again. In addition to lunch, I brought some take-away soup for your dinner since I have plans. Or, if you’re not feeling well, I guess I could cancel my plans.” She wasn’t even looking at him as she bustled about the kitchen, continuing her monologue without pause. “I also brought my latest legislation proposal for you to proofread. You do such a good job of editing and this is such an important piece, much better than the house-elf regulations that were passed two weeks ago. Oh, Susan Bones told me to tell you hello and that Ernie Macmillan proposed to her last night and that they hope you’ll be well enough to attend their wedding at Christmas.” She paused just long enough to set everything out on the plates she had floated to the table, then shoved one across to where Harry was sitting silently chuckling at her. She finally turned toward him, eying him suspiciously, then continued, “Then there’s the news that Minister Shacklebolt is finally being installed as the permanent Minister for Magic. The Daily Prophet took a poll and it seems the public doesn’t want a vote to be called, they just want him to stay as Minister, so the Wizengamot broke a nearly three-hundred-year-old rule and set the date for the installation for two weeks from yesterday. Why the Wizengamot is listening to that rag of a newspaper I’ll never know! Anyway, I know you probably won’t want to go…” Hermione trailed off as Harry broke out in nearly a full belly laugh, staring at him as though he had suddenly sprouted a second head. “What’s so funny, Harry? Have you mixed up your potions again?” she asked, annoyed. Harry smiled at her. “I’m absolutely brilliant, Hermione. I had a good walk this morning, I’m feeling much better, I’m hungry, I took all my potions correctly and I won’t need dinner tonight, so don’t feel guilty about having dinner with that new witch at the Ministry you were telling me about yesterday and I think it’s terrific that Kingsley is being made permanent Minister for Magic,” he said, his smile broadening. She stared at him for a long moment, trying to decide how to approach this new turn of events. “I’ll believe you’re hungry when half that sandwich disappears and you tell me why you’re not going to need dinner tonight,” she finally said sceptically in her best Andromeda Tonks no-nonsense tone. The older witch had put Harry in his place several weeks ago when she had brought his seven-year-old godson, Teddy, to see him and found he was only able to keep down small sips of water. Hermione had walked in on Andromeda’s lecture and added a few points of her own. To prove his point, Harry took a large bite of his sandwich and chewed slowly, seeming to be savouring the herby-tasting sauce that complimented the boiled eggs. Hermione opened her mouth to protest that he shouldn’t eat so fast, but decided to bide her time and be there when Harry headed for the nearest toilet, as he usually did when he ate too fast these days. She watched in trepidation as he finished the entire sandwich, washed it down with several swallows of the Coke, and started on the crisps. Finally, she asked, “Who are you and what have you done with Harry Potter?” The innocent expression on his face made her want to interrogate him, but she held her counsel as he said, “Hermione, I’m still me. For some wonderful reason, I’m feeling much better and I’ve decided to go out to dinner in Muggle London tonight. You’ve been telling me I need to get out more, so I’m going. If I choose what I eat carefully, I don’t think I’ll have any problems. “Now tell me more about what I’ll be editing this afternoon,” he finished. “Er, I’m finally proposing legislation to reverse all of Delores Umbridge’s werewolf rules,” she began, warming up to her subject. She knew that Harry would read every bit of what she was telling him in her file, but this was the first time he’d taken any interest in what she was proposing and it felt good to talk to him about something they had both wanted for a long time. While it was too late to make Remus Lupin’s life easier, there were others who would benefit from the reversal of Umbridge’s Werewolf Regulations. The grandfather clock in the entrance hall upstairs chimed one o’clock and they both froze, listening for Mrs Black’s portrait to start yelling. It didn’t, and the two shared a smile. With a reluctant glance at her watch, Hermione rose from her seat and prepared to go back to the office. “I’ll let myself out, Harry. Don’t get up. You’ll need to conserve your strength if you’re going out tonight,” she said. Harry rose slowly to his feet and walked around the table to give her a hug. “I’ll be careful, sis,” he said with affection in his tone. “Do you want me to Floo call you when I get in tonight?” “Not necessary. Call Seamus or Justin if you need help. They’re both supposed to be home,” Hermione reminded him. “I will. Now go before your boss sends you a nasty, purple, paper airplane,” Harry chuckled, propelling her gently towards the stairs. “Have a good time tonight.” With one last backward glance, Hermione told him she would and headed back to her office. * Harry took his customary nap in the middle of the afternoon before dressing carefully for his rendezvous with Ginny. He didn’t want to call it a date because to do so without consulting Ginny was inviting disaster. He knew enough about women to know that presumptions were most likely going to get him in trouble and at this point in their friendship, he didn’t want to do anything wrong… other than hold back the fact that he was a wizard… It was still warm when he exited his home and started walking toward Ginny’s Underground entrance. It was several degrees cooler than it had been yesterday, however, so his energy output was much less this evening. This translated into what Harry termed a spring in his step, although he knew he was still walking much slower than the average Muggle his age. Ginny was waiting for him when he turned the corner and began searching the crowded sidewalk for her. The first thing he noticed was that she’d let her hair out of its bun and it flowed around her face and shoulders like a red Spanish mantilla. “Ginny, you look nice tonight. I like your hair down,” he declared as he walked up to her. She blushed and glanced around at the people hurrying past them. “Thanks,” she murmured shyly. Amazed that he’d embarrassed her, Harry changed the subject. “Which restaurant would you like to go to?” Ginny pointed half a block down their side of the street to the sign for The Bluefish Grill. “That one, if it’s alright with you,” she said. “I’ve watched the construction crews renovating the space over the last four months and when they put the menus in the window six weeks ago, I knew I wanted to try it.” They only had to wait a few minutes for a table and were soon seated by the front window. One glance at the menu told Harry he needed to choose his meal carefully because many of the dishes sounded incredibly rich to him. He finally settled on vegetable soup and grilled sea bass–two items in his “somewhat boring” category which made it more likely that he’d keep his dinner down for the second night in a row. “What are you having?” Ginny asked carefully. He told her and she nodded absently, worrying her bottom lip. “Ginny,” and when she looked up, he continued, “You can get anything you want. You fed me last night. I’d like to treat you tonight.” “Thank you,” she murmured, and seemed more relaxed, making Harry think she was worried because she’d asked to come to so expensive a restaurant. He hoped she would order what she wanted rather than order something less expensive than what he had chosen and not to her liking. When their waiter took their orders, she smiled at him and ordered a more expensive meal; Harry was happy she did. The food was delicious. Harry ate slowly, letting his body tell him when to quit eating. Ginny seemed to be enjoying herself immensely as their conversation jumped spontaneously from one subject to another until their waiter came to take their plates. “I can’t believe I finished everything and don’t feel sick,” Harry told Ginny as he watched his empty plate being carried away. At her raised eyebrow, he added, “For the second night in a row I don’t think I’ll have any trouble keeping my meal down. I… there’s something about you that makes me relax enough to enjoy myself. Thank you.” Ginny blushed prettily as the waiter came back with a dessert cart. Harry glanced up at him and asked both Ginny and the waiter, “Crème Brule with two spoons, please? And a pot of tea, too.” The waiter nodded at the pleased expression on Ginny’s face. “Harry,” Ginny began as they broke through the caramelized sugar on their dessert, “you said you’ve not been keeping food down. Has this been going on for a long time? I’m just curious about your comment. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she added. “It’s all right,” he said. “I want you to know because you’ll understand more than most people I know. Two years ago, I was hurt very badly in, erm, hand-to-hand combat. I was in a coma for nearly a year and my recovery after I woke up has been long and slow because of the nature of my injuries.” “Have your doctors tried different treatments to improve your food intake?” Ginny asked. “My problem is the medications I’m taking,” Harry invented wildly. Hermione had come up with that falsehood just in case he came across this exact situation and he gratefully employed it. “I’ve had several setbacks when a new med didn’t work or played havoc with the others I was taking. I’m in the case study for the pain meds because my doctors have tried everything they can think of to help my pain. For now, it seems to be working.” Ginny looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “I thought that might be the case.” She reached into the pudding dish and scraped out the last little bit of custard. “I’m glad you’ve found something that works for you. Some of my patients are struggling with similar problems.” Their waiter chose that moment to bring their bill and handed it to Harry. He counted out the right amount, added a generous tip and stood up. “Ready?” Ginny followed him out of the restaurant and fell into step beside him as they headed back toward her flat. Harry switched his walking cane to his other hand just in case there was the possibility of making contact with her hand. When his hand brushed hers halfway through their walk, he gently wrapped his fingers around hers and glanced sideways at her in time to see her jump a little at the contact and then blush in the light of a street lamp. His stomach did a happy little flip-flop that had nothing to do with food rejection and everything to do with how nice the contact made him feel. All too soon they reached the flat with the window box. “I’ve had a lovely evening, Harry. Thank you for dinner,” Ginny said as they stood outside her door. She fumbled with her key. “Would you like to come in?” “Not tonight,” Harry said. “I had a good time, too. May I walk you to the Underground tomorrow morning?” “I’d like that,” she said. “Until tomorrow, then,” Harry said, and on impulse, leaned in and kissed her gently on the cheek, before turning and heading for home. * Ginny watched Harry walk away with a fluttery feeling in her stomach. Only one other man had kissed her like he had on the first date and that had been the start of a very pleasant relationship. She closed the door and leaned on it after turning the lock. She could hardly wait for morning to come. |
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