Another week, another chapter, another adventure in the lives of Harry and Ginny. They're learning to forgive and move on, and acknowledge the events that have shaped their lives.
Many thanks to my editors. Without them, this story would be rather boring!
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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: 30570; Chapter Total: 1850 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: |
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Ginny quietly shut her car door and walked around the house to the kitchen door. She wanted this visit to be a surprise and she had chosen a time of day when her dad would be out in the fields and her brothers all at work, not that any of them lived with their parents any more. This meant that she’d have a couple of hours with her mother all to herself. She paused at the bottom of the steps leading to the kitchen door and turned to look out over the back garden to the fields beyond. The wheat crop looked like it was well on its way and she noted that her dad had planted less of it than in previous years because several of the surrounding fields that she knew he’d planted in previous years were dotted with the chestnut-coloured forms of her dad’s favourite milk cow, the Milking Devon. Automatically, she began counting cows. In previous years, his herd had been about thirty-six head, but today she counted closer to sixty. Then, she spotted something she’d never seen on the farm before: it was a herd of white, tan, brown and even black animals that looked like long-necked sheep from this distance. Ginny had no idea what they were, but there were about twenty of them in the field close to the barn. Obviously, her parents were branching out in their farming of livestock. She turned back to the house, determined to ask her mother what these new animals were. “Mum, are you busy?” Ginny called as she walked into the empty kitchen. There was a soft thump and then she was engulfed in a hug so fierce she could hardly breathe. Her mother held her and for the second time in four days, Ginny felt her shoulder being soaked with tears. “Ginny, oh, my darling, you’re home!” her mother exclaimed a few minutes later. “It’s so good to see you!” “It’s good to see you, too, Mum,” she said, stepping back and looking towards the stairs. The pile of laundry her mum had been carrying lay scattered on the floor. Walking over to it, she began gathering it into a neater pile. “Do you need help with the laundry?” Taking the pile from her daughter, her mother said, “Give me two minutes to get this in the washer and we can have a nice cuppa while it washes.” “All right, I’ll go turn on the kettle,” Ginny said as her mum bustled into the scullery. “What have you been up to?” her mum asked a few minutes later. “Working, mostly,” Ginny answered. “I think I told you I got a job at the Royal Orthopaedic Hospital in London. The work is so different from what I did here in Ottery; I’m really enjoying it.” “Have you met anyone?” her mum asked as she passed Ginny a plate of ginger biscuits. Ginny resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she took a biscuit and nibbled on it as she considered her answer. “I’ve made a few friends at work,” she said, trying to avoid telling her mother about Harry. All her life her mum had had a sixth sense when it came to Ginny and her relationships with boys. She’d been the same way with Bill, Percy and the twins. “You know that’s not what I mean,” hinted her mum. “No, I don’t. Explain, please.” “Are there any handsome doctors asking you out? You’re a very attractive woman, you know, and anyone would be lucky to have you as their special someone.” “Mum! When would I have time? All the doctors I know are twenty years older than I am, they have grey hair! And they’re all married! Besides, I’ve only been in London for eight months. When would I have time to meet someone?” “Ginny, I haven’t seen you in months, but I know there’s someone special in your life. You have that glow about you…” “What glow?” “The one that tells me you spend your days off with a young man, one who thinks the world of you.” “You’ve been wrong about that glow before, Mum,” Ginny said, thinking of an ex-boyfriend named Michael. Her mother had been certain that Michael was the one, but a week later, the two had broken up. “Only the once. Now please stop stalling and tell me about your friend,” her mother said, changing tactics. Ginny sighed and gave in to her mother’s nagging. “He’s a good friend. He’s recovering from being injured in a fire fight somewhere. We met because he started walking along my street twice a day a couple of months ago and we’d pass the time of day sometimes. He asked me out and now we spend a lot of time together,” she said, hoping to satisfy her mother’s curiosity. “Does he have a name?” her mother asked. “Yes, it’s Harry,” Ginny admitted, knowing that if she said any more, her mother would get on the internet and look up all the Harry Potters listed to see if he owned property and how much it was worth. She’d once told Ginny that being a land owner indicated whether or not a man would be a good provider. Her mother reached across the table and patted Ginny’s hand. “I’m glad you have a friend, Ginny. I was so worried when you left; you were so sad and broken. We all were.” “Are you doing any better, Mum?” “I am. The good days now outnumber the bad days, but sometimes I just have to give in to the grief. It’s very hard to lose a child, even if that child is grown and gone from home.” Her mum glanced up at the kitchen mantle where a parade of photographs marched across the bricks. Fred’s photo was in the middle. A melancholy expression ghosted over her mother’s face. “That’s good to hear. Er, when I came in, I noticed there were some new animals out to pasture,” Ginny said, stalling the inevitable. She wanted the good feelings and pleasant subjects to last a bit longer. They would give her something positive to think about on the drive back to London if she and her mother didn’t come to an understanding. Her mother perked up right away. “Those are alpacas. They belong to the same animal family as camels and llamas and I’m raising them for their fleece, which is finer and softer than wool and makes such wonderful yarn!” She jumped up, bustled into the living room and came back holding two skeins of yarn, one black, one light brown. “Feel this, Ginny. Isn’t it the softest thing you’ve ever felt?” she gushed. Ginny squeezed the balls of yarn. They were incredibly soft. “Is this made from the animals you have out in the pasture?” “Yes. We purchased an established herd from a farmer who was retiring just after you left. We had our first shearing in June and netted seventy kilos of fleece! We sent it to a local spinner who turned it into this yarn. I have so much of it that I’ve started selling it in the Ottery yarn shop and George set me up with a website to sell it on line. My business is small, but the neighbourhood knitting club really likes my yarn. For the first time in my life, I’m a business woman!” The giddy giggle that escaped her mother made Ginny smile. They talked a little longer about the new business and the events her mother would be going to to sell her yarn before her mother asked pointedly, “Ginny, why did you really come home? Of all my children, you’ve always had a purpose to everything you do.” Ginny filled her mug from the pot and stared at the knitted cosy that kept the teapot warm. “Mum, I need to talk about why I left,” she said quietly. Her mother’s weathered hand reached across the table and captured Ginny’s. “I was hoping that was the case because I’ve thought we needed to talk as soon as you stormed out.” “I’m glad we agree that talking this out is what we need. Being ostracized like that hurt me deeply, Mum. I never thought I’d be the family pariah for something I didn’t even do. What hurt the most, though, was that you and Dad stood back and watched as first Ron and then the rest of my brothers tore me apart. Why didn’t you two step in when they ganged up on me?” Her mother sighed and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she said, “We have no excuse. We thought the argument would blow over like so many of your childhood squabbles did. Yes, Ron was making a nuisance of himself, but your father and I didn’t think his accusations would come to anything because he was inebriated when they were delivered. We should have known better. By the time we realized how serious the situation was, the hospital had scheduled the hearings and you weren’t speaking to us.” “I understand that, Mum, but you two didn’t support me when I needed you most. You sided with Ron!” Ginny exclaimed. “I thought you were ashamed of me!” “Oh, Ginny, we never meant for you to think that. You see, when the hospital brought the charges against you, we were torn up inside because we love you both. We asked our friends, the Diggorys, who dealt with a conflict between their two boys, and they recommended staying neutral, especially since you were both adults,” her mum explained. Ginny stared into her mug. “I wish you and Dad told me about that. While it wouldn’t have made things any easier for me at work, at least I would have known why you weren’t doing anything to stop Ron from saying the things he said. It would have stopped me from wondering why you’d abandoned me and let Bill and Charlie try to make him stop. I could have used some time together with you just talking about how I felt,” she nearly whispered. “Ginny, darling. I think you know that your dad and I couldn’t have controlled what Ron said any more than we could have stopped Fred dying. We knew all of you are adults, capable of handling difficult situations. Do you think it was easy for us to watch you suffer through the investigation alone?” “I suppose not,” Ginny mumbled. She was quiet for a time, then she asked the question that had kept her up so often since Ron’s last phone call. “Mum, I moved away eight months ago. You look reasonably happy. Why is Ron still calling me at least once a week to tell me that you’re not coping with Fred’s death and that you’re ashamed of me?” “He’s doing what?” The question came from the direction of the back door. Both Ginny and her mother looked up to see Bill standing in the doorway. His face was rather pink and his expression thunderous. “Why, that little…” He let the sentence dangle and Ginny provided her own word to fill in the blank: it wasn’t very complimentary. Bill shut the door with care and strode over to the table. “I’m sorry, Ginny,” he began. “I didn’t know.” He hovered for a split second, then bent down and hugged Ginny. “It’s so good to see you.” “What are you doing here, Bill?” their mother asked. “I thought you and Jeannine were taking the kids to the seaside today.” “We are, but not until after lunch, so I stopped by to bring back the plumbing tools I borrowed from Dad last week. I didn’t want to keep them any longer than I needed them,” he explained. “That’s kind of you,” their mother murmured. Bill smiled vaguely while skewering Ginny with his best “big brother” stare. “Now tell me again what that git is doing,” he said evenly, even though eyes were flashing. “At least once a week, sometimes twice, I get a call from Ron,” Ginny sighed wearily. “Sometimes he says something like ‘did you kill anyone this week’ or ‘does the hospital you work for know you killed your brother?’ This week his call was about Mum and the fact that she’s not coping with Fred’s death and that I need to come home to apologize for killing him. I blocked his number on my phone, so I have about a week before he discovers that he has to use someone else’s phone if he wants to bother me again.” “I didn’t think he’d got that bad,” Bill said apologetically. “Do you want me to talk to him?” Ginny shook her head. “Not just yet. Let me try talking him out of calling me again the next time he calls. I have a friend who thinks I should unblock the number, record the call and threaten to call the police. I can also get a new phone number if I need to,” she said. “I’m going to try that approach first.” Bill sighed. “I’m really sorry he’s doing this, Ginny. You don’t deserve what Ron’s doing to you.” He sat down next to her and reached over to take her hand. “I’m also sorry that I let him persuade me that he was right. I’ll admit to being a bit jealous of the time you could spend with Fred because you worked at the hospital. I think all of us were, but Ron’s taken it to the extreme,” he said, looking straight at her. Ginny squeezed her brother’s fingers. “Thanks for saying that, Bill. I forgive you.” “Forgive Bill for what?” asked a very familiar and welcome voice. “Is that Ginny’s car out in the drive?” “Dad!” Ginny cried, jumping up and hurrying over to give him a hug. “Ginny, it’s so good to see you!” he exclaimed. He released her and stepped back. “What are you forgiving Bill for?” Ginny winked at Bill before she replied seriously, “For being a jealous git and believing the horrible things Ron said when Fred died.” Bill chuckled quietly at this. “Why are you forgiving him now?” her father asked. “I’ve had time to think about what happened, and he and Mum have answered some of the questions I had, so I’ve decided to look forward instead of backward now that I have more information,” she told him. “I was hoping you could eventually do that,” her father said. Ginny sighed, then said, “Dad, I can’t forget what happened, too much time has passed and too much has been said, but I’ve decided to not let the negative feelings keep me away from my family. I realized that I rather like the life I’m building for myself now, and that I’d be much happier if I could come home every once in a while. It’s healthier to forgive and move on.” Her father smiled, looking relieved. “I agree,” he said quietly. Her mother joined them. “I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive us for staying out of the argument and for staying away when you obviously needed us,” she said, sounding anxious. “I’m beginning to think we were given bad advice.” Her father nodded his agreement. “I do forgive you and Dad. I just wish…” Ginny stopped, pulled in a huge breath and let it out slowly to calm herself. “No. No more wishes. You did what you thought was best for our family and I need to stop wishing things were different. I feel better when I’m not wishing.” Her mother hugged her. “Thank you, Ginny. Have you told Harry about our troubles?” “Harry?” her father and brother chorused. “Yes, Ginny has a significant other!” her mother crowed. “Isn’t it wonderful?” “Maybe. What does he do for a living?” Bill asked, and Ginny could see the cogs in his banker’s brain whirring into high gear. “Nothing, right now. He’s recovering from being seriously injured,” she replied. When Bill raised an eyebrow, she repeated the little she’d told her mother. Bill stroked his chin. “Would you like me to look him up, Ginny? It might be nice to know a little more about the bloke,” he offered. “Bill Weasley, you’ll do no such thing!” their mother exclaimed. “Leave your sister’s boyfriend alone!” “He’s not my boyfriend,” Ginny protested. “We’re just good friends.” “Sure, he is,” Bill said with the same teasing tone their mother had used earlier. He then looked at his watch. “Well, if we’re going to the seaside, I’d better not keep Jeannine and the kids waiting any longer.” He stepped forward and hugged Ginny again. “It was good to see you, sis. If you want me to talk to Ron, I will.” “Let me see if I can get him to stop on my own,” she pleaded as she hugged him back. “I promise that if I need a big brother, I’ll call you first.” “Good,” Bill said. “I’ll see you all in a week.” After he left, Ginny looked at her father. “Mum said you’ve branched out into raising alpacas. May I see them?” Her father glanced down at Ginny’s shoes. “The pasture is rather muddy from the rain we had last night. You’re going to need boots,” he said. “There’s a pair of my old Wellies under the coat rack,” her mother said. “Put those on. They should fit.” “I’ll be right back,” Ginny said. The three of them walked down to the pasture together a few minutes later. Ginny was enthralled by the small, woolly animals. Her father opened the pasture gate just enough to let them in. “Stand quietly and see what they do,” he advised. He strode into the barn and came back with a small container of what looked like food pellets. Ginny did as her father asked and stood watching the nearest animals. It didn’t take much time for the closest one to notice and come over to her. “Here, Ginny, give them some of this as a getting-to-know-you gesture,” her father said, offering her the pellets. She took the container from him and scooped a small amount onto her palm and held it out to the alpaca. “I take it you’d rather have them eat this than my clothes?” she asked. Her father chuckled. “They’re not goats,” he said. “They don’t have any upper front teeth. I just thought you’d have fun feeding them.” As the alpaca sniffed her palm and then scooped up a few of the pellets, a few more came over to see what was going on. Soon, nearly the whole herd had come to see what the big deal was about and Ginny spent an enjoyable half hour amongst her parents’ newest addition to their farm. “Will we see you again soon?” her mother asked several hours later as the three of them walked out to Ginny’s car. “I’d like that, Mum,” she said happily. “I’ll text you my work schedule when I get it.” “And will you bring Harry with you?” her father asked. “Probably not,” she said. “While I’d love to introduce him to you, and he’s walking much better than he was when we first met, I don’t think he’s ready for the uneven ground of the pastures. He’s still walking with a cane and I wouldn’t want him to fall.” Her mother reached up and caressed Ginny’s cheek. “I can tell Harry is a special man just by the way you speak of him. I’m glad you found him,” she said. “Me, too, Mum,” Ginny whispered as she hugged her mum farewell and slipped into the driving seat. With a wave out her window, she headed down the drive towards the main road and London. * A Ministry owl brought Dudley’s reply. The envelope looked a bit worse for wear because not only had it gone through the Postal Service, it had undergone numerous spells and other tests at the Ministry mail screening office to make sure it was safe to send to Harry. The screening office had been set up following the end of the war to cope with the volume of mail he received each day from grateful witches and wizards. While Harry had been in the coma, all owls had been directed to the screening office rather than his person. Those letters that came the Muggle way were routed to a Muggle sorting office close to the Ministry and each day a screening office employee made the trip to collect Harry’s Muggle mail. The office was kept open even now because people continued to send him things: most packages and letters were harmless, but every once in a while, a crazed witch would send him a box of Chocolate Cauldrons laced with a love potion. Harry now gave the owl a treat and a drink of water and sent it on its way, taking the letter up to the library. He fully expected Dudley to tell him to take a long walk off a short pier, so he was pleasantly surprised when the letter turned out to be as long as it was. Hey Harry, You’re right, it has been a long time since we’ve seen each other. It was good to hear from you. I’m living in Newcastle now, having completed university in Nottingham just last year. I’m working as a physiotherapist at a sports medicine clinic and love working with the athletes, especially the boxers. I know it’s a long way from London to come up here for a beer, but I’d be willing to meet you at my favourite pub in Nottingham. I think we’d both be traveling about the same distance. If you don’t drive, I know there are trains that run regularly between London and Nottingham. You asked about Mum and Dad. They’re doing OK. I’ll tell you more if we meet for a beer. Dudley So, Dudley did want to meet after all. Harry didn’t know how he felt about it, but was determined to speak to his cousin in person, so he wrote back inquiring about dates and times to meet. They finally settled on a Saturday meeting at the end of the month. “Do you want me to come with you?” Ginny asked when he told her. “No, because this is something I have to do on my own, but thanks for offering,” Harry said determinedly. “If you can talk with your parents and Bill alone, I can talk to my cousin by myself.” “How long will you be gone?” she asked. “I’ve decided on making it just a day trip. I’ll take a morning train up and come back on the last one of the day. I’m not sure how much we’ll have to say to each other, but if we have something in common other than animosity, we may just get along fine. I just have to remember that I’m putting the past behind me, not asking him for an apology,” Harry said with a sigh. “You’re strong enough now to not let Dudley intimidate you,” Ginny told him. “You’ve been in combat for goodness’ sake!” “Yeah, I have. It’ll be just another day out on patrol.” * On the appointed day, Harry was up early and out the door in time to catch a nine o’clock train to Nottingham. He had stuffed his old school bag with a manuscript Hermione wanted him to edit, a paperback novel, a book of travel puzzle games, and several vials of potions he needed to take at noon and six o’clock. Harry had enlisted Hermione’s help in disguising and magically protecting the vials so they would pass a Muggle inspection, if necessary. The ride to Nottingham was unremarkable, although the closer to his cousin he came, the less he was able to concentrate on anything other than the mindless puzzle games that didn’t take much brain power. At last the train pulled into the station and a few minutes later, Harry exited the terminal, looking around for a cab. He saw several and approached one. “Where to, mate?” the cabbie asked as Harry eased into the back seat. Harry gave him the name of the pub and the driver pulled out into traffic. Harry sat nervously in his seat, his right knee bouncing up and down. The pub was situated close to the university dormitories. Harry paid the cab driver and went inside. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the cool darkness of the pub’s interior, so his first impression of the place was an auditory one: up close, there was the murmur of quiet voices and the soft tapping of cutlery on plates, while the click of billiard balls came from further away. Eventually, Harry spotted Dudley sitting at a table in a corner, a dark beer clutched in his beefy hand. “Harry! Hi!” Dudley said as Harry approached the table. “Hey, Dudley.” Harry pulled out a chair and sat opposite his cousin. “Beer?” Dudley asked, raising his glass. “No, thanks. I don’t drink. Doesn’t mix well with my meds,” Harry told him frankly. Dudley raised an eyebrow. “Meds? What for?” “Battle injuries,” Harry said shortly. “From when…” Dudley hinted. “Two years ago.” “Why’d it take so long? I thought that with a little hocus pocus you’d be done and I could finish school at Smeltings like Dad wanted me to.” “Complications I can’t talk about,” Harry said curtly and abruptly stood up. “Let’s get some lunch. What’s good?” “Get the fish and chips or the fish sandwich. Both are excellent,” Dudley said. He stood up and handed Harry some money. “Order me the fish and chips. I’ll hold our table. It’s going to get busy in here pretty soon, even though it’s summer.” A loud pub was exactly the atmosphere Harry had been looking for; more privacy amidst a big crowd. “Sure thing.” At the bar, Harry ordered their fish and chips before requesting a Coke to take back to the table. “Are you still boxing?” he asked as he sat down again. Dudley shook his head. “Nope. I joined the Uni team my first year and had a pretty good year. Training was going well and I’d won a couple of bouts, but near the end of the season, I got hurt severely enough that I had to quit. That was a blow because I always thought I’d box for a couple of years after I finished school and then take a job in a clinic somewhere. The job came faster than I anticipated.” “You’re doing well for yourself?” “Yeah, I am. I have a steady girl I met a year ago. She works in the tech industry.” Harry smiled at Dudley. “That’s good to hear.” He sipped his drink, then asked, “What did you and your parents do while I was out fighting bad guys?” Dudley downed the last of his beer and signalled for another one before answering. “The first six months they kept us in a safe house, but Dad was going mental being around our minders, so it was decided to send Mum and Dad abroad while I stayed at the house and was home schooled. I wanted to stay in England,” Dudley said. “How did they take that idea?” “Not well. Dad yelled and turned purple a couple of times and called me all sorts of ugly things. Mum didn’t want to leave me, put up a right fuss, said I wasn’t ready to be on my own. I wasn’t an adult yet, so I didn’t know what was good for me.” At this, Harry struggled to keep from laughing. He could easily picture his aunt pleading to stay so she could coddle his cousin, her little Diddikins. “I pointed out that I’d been away at school for ten months every year since I was eleven and she hadn’t been bothered by it, so why should she get all weepy when it was her time to leave?” Dudley added. “I bet that went over well,” Harry said dryly. “Actually, it did. It convinced her that I’d be all right staying at the safe house with a couple of minders. Dad didn’t care where they went, he just wanted to get away, but Mum had always wanted to go to Canada, so Dedalus took them to Ottawa and settled them in a flat as an independently wealthy couple. They had a minder living a few blocks away they could call if there was trouble, but that far from Britain, it was assumed nothing would happen. Dad calmed down, apparently, and stopped blustering about ‘foreigners’ when he realized he was the foreigner and not the other way round,” Dudley explained with a smile. “Did they eventually go back to Surrey?” Harry asked as a server brought their meal. “No, they sold the house on Privet Drive in oh-two and stayed in Ottawa. Mum really likes it there and Dad figures that if she’s happy, he can be happy there, too,” Dudley said. Harry took a few seconds to digest this information. “What happened with you?” he asked eventually. “I liked being home schooled. Hestia was a good teacher. For the first time, I actually understood what I was learning and before I knew it, I had my GCSE and had been admitted to Nottingham University under a different surname.” Dudley sounded rather proud of himself. “That was in ninety-eight. I graduated a year ago.” Harry smiled genuinely for the first time. “That’s great, Dudley. Tell me about your job,” he prompted. As they finished their meal, Dudley talked about the people who came for help at the clinic he worked at and what he did to help them. Harry listened quietly, somewhat surprised at the changes in his cousin. The seven years that had lapsed since they’d last seen each other had mellowed Dudley and made Harry wonder if they could have been friends if his cousin hadn’t been indulged quite so much as a child. “Harry, why did you write to me out of the blue? Like you said, it has been a long time,” Dudley asked suddenly. Harry startled at the direct question. This was it. “I have PTSD,” he explained as Dudley murmured, “Thought so.” Harry ploughed on. “My therapist thinks that acknowledging how I grew up and what I went through in the war and then letting go of the negative feelings will help me heal.” “I can understand that,” Dudley said quietly. “We didn’t make life easy on you. I didn’t make life easy for you. God, I was such an idiot!” Harry stared at his cousin. “Did… did you just say what I think I heard?” he asked incredulously. “Potter, you’re not the only one who’s been seeing a therapist lately. I’ve got my own issues to work through: that Dumby, Dumple, er Dumpy…” Dudley paused as Harry murmured, “Dumbledore” before continuing, “Er, yeah, him, your headmaster… was right about Mum and Dad not being a good influence on me. Some of them aren’t very pleasant.” It hadn’t occurred to Harry that Dudley might be just as messed up as he was. It was an uncomfortable thought. “Do you think it would help both of us if I forgave you?” Harry asked. Dudley contemplated the dregs of his beer. “You know, I think it just might,” he said, looking as startled as Harry felt. “But I think I need to apologize first, so Harry, I’m sorry for making you my target while we were growing up. You were always smarter than I was and I resented that you made friends more easily than I did, so I bullied you. I’m sorry.” “Apology accepted,” Harry acknowledged the thing he never thought would happen, a genuine apology from Dudley. “And I forgive you.” They looked at each other across the table, across time, and Harry felt something hard within him melt and ease away. He knew he’d still be bothered by his childhood, but somehow it didn’t matter quite so much anymore. “Do you feel different?” Dudley asked, breaking their silence. “Yeah, I do, but I don’t know how to explain it.” “Neither do I.” |
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