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The Winding Road | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:None Genres: Drama Warnings: Violence Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 48 Summary: A Harry Never attended Hogwarts Story Hitcount: Story Total: 16924; Chapter Total: 1004 Awards: View Trophy Room |
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Chapter 9 The taste in Ginny’s mouth wouldn’t go away. Figuratively. Though the literal taste of shepherd’s pie coming back up was…unpleasant. It would be a while before she had mash again. But more pressing was the litany of scenes that kept running through her mind; the killing of the death eaters, Voldemort’s death, Hermoine and Ron almost dying. They all kept playing on repeat. But…Harry’s ‘death’. It dominated. And it made her stomach drop every time. A more focused memory caused her hands to shake. Ginny arrived home, laying on her bed and rubbing her forehead to try to clear her head. Ginny hesitated, then reached over to her end table and pulled a sleeping potion out of the drawer. Ginny considered it. She knew she needed to rest. It would be a long 12 hours otherwise. And on the off chance that she could sleep, she knew that her dreams would heavily feature the images from Hermoine’s mind. Ginny closed here eyes, yanked the top of the potion off and downed it in one swift motion, laying back and breathing out as she let the potion run its course. It was dark when Ginny clawed her way out of the dreamless sleep. Ginny grasped at her clock, glad to see she still had a bit over an hour before she had to see Harry. Staggering over to her bathroom, Ginny splashed some water on her face hoping to would dispel some of her fogginess. Maybe even shed some light on what she was supposed to do. Harry was dangerous. He was a killer. Ginny had known that before. But seeing it happen had made impacted her in a way that she had not foreseen. And had he attacked Ernie? What else could have happened? Harry certainly seemed to harbor some ill will towards the ministry. But the press, and by extension the ministry, had spent years trying to destroy his credibility and invading his privacy. Was his enmity deserved? Were Harry’s actions during the war the actions of a cold-blooded killer, or a man doing his best to protect what remained of his family? Ginny’s intuition said the latter, but how well did she really know him? These thoughts so engrossed Ginny that it came as a surprise to her when she looked up and saw the entrance to the ministry. A moment of panic overcame her. She wasn’t ready to see him. And she had forgotten to brush her teeth, so she was sure her breath smelled like death. Not that she planned on kissing him. Just as an example of things she definitely would not be doing with Harry, so having bad breath would obviously not matter. Obviously. Ginny squared her shoulders and shook her head, driving out the strangely intrusive thoughts. Fear had never stopped her before. It wouldn’t today. Waiting had always been difficult for Ginny, and as she stood, waiting for her portkey to activate, her apprehension almost overwhelmed her. But then the sensation of a hook behind her navel took hold and when the whirl of color and sound stopped, Ginny found that she was alone. Seeing the light that was on in the house, Ginny quickly set off, alarms already ringing in her head. Why would they not be waiting at the change point. Ginny burst through the front door, fearing the worst. Instead, she found Ernie and Harry apparently deep in conversation at the small kitchen table. Harry had his hand on Ernie’s shoulder and Ernie with his head in his hands. Ernie looked up, eyes slightly red, and gaped in surprise. Looking quickly at the clock over the fireplace, he gasped. “Oh Merlin! Lost track of time!” Ginny quickly fished the return portkey out of her robe and tossed it to Ernie, who caught it as it began to turn blue. Ernie disappeared and silence enveloped the room. Ginny stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do. She glanced at Harry, feeling his eyes on her, and then quickly looked away. Ginny had never felt so uncomfortable. Even when they had first started working the pitch it hadn’t been this bad. At least at the pitch there had been some space to get away from each other. Harry shifted awkwardly on the balls of his feet before gesturing half heartedly at the couch. “Um, make yourself at home?” It came out as a question and Ginny, unsure what to do, looked back at him before sitting, mouth suddenly dry. Harry nodded silently, as if reassuring himself, before sitting at the chair in the corner, as far as possible from Ginny in the small house. The tension was palpable. It set Ginny’s teeth on edge. Harry seemed to be reading a book. Ginny pretended to read her own. The silence stretched and frustration swelled within her. Harry actually seemed to be relaxed now, reading through his stupid book without even a second thought for her. The gale. It was unacceptable, unpalatable! Before Ginny had even considered what she might say, words burst from her. “What happened yesterday, Harry?” Her voice came out harder than she intended and winced internally as she saw Harry’s face harden. He closed the book and looked up slowly. “Who is asking?” The question threw Ginny. “Who is...I’m asking! I need to know, deserve to know!” Ginny retorted. She knew right away that she had made a mistake. Harry stood suddenly, his face granite. Ginny flinched back, hand flying towards her robe where her wand was stored. Harry saw and sorrowHarry noticed. Aorrow colored the anger on his face. “You deserve to know?” He asked, his voice soft, anger and hurt reverberating in every syllable. “You are my guard. A ministry official, here at their orders. What makes you think you deserve to know anything about me or about my life? You want to know what happened? It became clear to me just how tight my leash is!” Harry stormed into the bedroom slamming the door behind him. Ginny sat for a moment, stunned, before she felt tears forming. It was suddenly clear to her how Harry must see her. A burden. An intrusion. A reminder of the ministry’s attempts at control. Ginny laid her head on the couch, trying to understand how she had been so stupid. Harry clearly didn’t feel anything for her. How she had concocted such an involved fantasy was beyond her, and she had never felt so stupid. With deep, shuddering breaths, Ginny fought the tears that she refused to let fall, and unwilling to make any noise that might indicate to Harry how badly he had hurt her. Ginny sat, despondent, staring at the ceiling, wishing more than anything that she could just leave and never see Harry again. Instead, she would be trapped here with him for hours. And weeks. And months. The hours passed and Harry’s door stayed closed. Ginny sat in the same spot, her dejection sapping her energy, occasionally half dozing. Around 3:00 AM the sound of the door opening snapped Ginny out of her shell and she sat up quickly. Ginny hadn’t lite any lights, but her eyes had long ago adjusted to the dark. She watched Harry stand, apparently waiting for his eyes to adjust, before cautiously feeling his way through the room. Ginny felt a spurt of vindictive joy when he smashed his toe on edge of the couch. She may have even snorted a bit. Harry stopped. “Are you awake, Ginny?” he asked, voice nothing but a whisper. Ginny was more than tempted to stay quiet. But before all, she was an auror. “Yes, Potter, I’m awake.” Ginny answered, voice rough. Harry swallowed. “Do you…mind if I sit?” he ventured tentatively. “It’s your house, Potter. You can do what you want.” Ginny answered, again enjoying seeing him squirm. Harry dropped down heavily. “I’m sorry Ginny.” The apology was abrupt, but no less sincere for it. “I shouldn’t have said what I said. I’ll…I’ll answer whatever questions you have.” Ginny bit back a biting remark, wanting to continue to punish him, but seeing his regret was sincere. Instead, She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry too Harry. I shouldn’t have asked like that. And…I’m sorry for how I…reacted.” They sat in the dark for a moment, Ginny at least grateful that the dark obscured her features. “Are-are you scared of me?” Harry’s question cut Ginny to the core. She couldn’t respond and her silence seemed to be the answer that Harry was expecting. “I don’t blame you, you know. I understand.” Yet despite his statement, his words carried deep bitterness. “I’m not scared, Harry. Not in the sense you think. I know you’re strong. I’ve always known. But my friend showed me her memory of the final battle. It wasn’t…It wasn’t what I expected. I know you wouldn’t hurt me. Or anyone that didn’t deserve it. But what happened with Ernie, and what the memory showed me…” Ginny shook her head. “Sometimes I feel like I know you, like I’ve always known you, but sometimes I feel like an idiot for thinking I understand you.” Harry sat, still as a statue. “What did the memory show?” He eventually asked. Ginny shuddered. “There was a scream. Then you, kind of, appeared… and fought through the death eaters surrounding-surrounding Voldemort. You…you burned some of them alive. You fought him… Voldemort. You won” In the darkness, all she saw was an unmoving silhouette. Harry seemed to have stopped breathing. “That was probably the worst moment of my life. And believe me, that is saying something. I had just watched them…watched Tonks die. She, she was pregnant. Her and Remus had asked me to be godfather. She was my friend.” Harry’s voice was raw with pain, and anger. Ginny shivered as the air itself seemed to turn icy and tried to swallow past the painful lump that had formed in her throat. Every time Ginny thought she knew his story, some new piece of information about his life would humble her. “I lost control, Ginny. I won’t deny what you saw, nor will I claim to regret it. Those bastards deserved everything they got and more. And you should know that I’ve hurt…and killed…a lot of people. I don’t think anyone would call me a ‘good person’, but I never hurt anyone that wasn’t trying to hurt me or someone I cared about or someone innocent. Never.” Harry finished emphatically. Ginny found that she believed him. The pain of his past had marked him in a way that gave his explanation undoubtable. But despite this, Ginny still had questions. “But what about Ernie?” Asked Ginny quietly. Harry ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t tell you everything cause some of it is Ernie’s story, but I can say this. I didn’t hurt him. He’s been having some….struggles. And he may have gotten into some muggle prescriptions that I keep around for emergencies. Renervate doesn’t really work for that type of unconsciousness. And I was just taking a walk. It was the anniversary of my parent’s deaths, I just wanted a moment alone.” Harry finished emotionally. “I’m sorry, Harry.” Ginny scooted closer to him on the couch. “I shouldn’t have assumed the worst. I think that between Robards and Hermoine, I just overthought everything.” Harry shrugged, his movement nothing but shadows shifting in the dark. “It’s okay Ginny. Would you like to see my parents? I was looking at old photos of them earlier.” Shame swelled within her. Harry had been looking at photos of his parents, the day after the anniversary of their deaths, and Ginny had decided to pick a fight with him. And yet he not only forgave her, but had apologized and continued to open up to her. How could Harry Potter be a real person? “Yes,” She answered in a slightly choked voice. “I would love to see them.” Harry stood, again pulling a small object from his pocket and clicking it to create a ball of light that hovered in the middle of the room, illuminating everything like a small sun. Ginny blinked at the sudden light, while Harry grabbed the book and returned to sit next to her. Ginny scooted to closer, til their shoulders were touching. Harry seemed a bit startled, but smiled. “These are them.” Harry’s father looked just like him. Same messy hair, glasses, even the face and nose shape. Everything except the eyes. He had his mother’s eyes. “You carry them with you.” Ginny said softly stroking Harry’s face. Harry stared at Ginny’s face, transfixed. Ginny suddenly became aware of what she was doing and quickly dropped her hand, embarrassed. “Um what’s this picture?” Asked Ginny quickly, hoping to change the subject. Harry blinked several times. “Oh, uh” Harry looked down at the picture in question. It showed what looked like the back of Harry’s head. He was holding a small, stylized silver mirror. But the mirror wasn’t showing Harry’s reflection, instead it showed a pale man with long black hair. “That’s how Sirius and I communicated. My dad and him were best friends growing up. They made the mirrors so they wouldn’t have to use owls. This one” He tapped on the mirror in the photo “was my dad’s. He was also an animargus. A stag, that’s why it looks that way.” Ginny examined the picture more closely and could see elaborate antlers that seemed to surround the mirror. As Ginny watched, the face in the mirror seemed to say something and young Harry threw his head back and laughed. It was shocking to see how young he looked, only a few years ago. Harry began to chuckle. Ginny looked at him in question. “Sirius had forgotten about those mirror’s. Found em when we stopped by his family home. But he couldn’t remember how they had made them, so he couldn’t change the names associated with them. I always teased him about growing dumber with age. He seemed strangely proud of outsmarting his older self.” This time Ginny chuckled with him. “Do you still have them?” Ginny asked. “Hmmm, oh, no.” Harry shook his head. “I left them at his old house a few years back. Right before Sirius’ death. Could never go back to the house because there was a question of ownership. From what I hear Bellatrix Lestrange took it as her headquarters after Sirius’ death.” The thought clearly disturbed and angered him. Seeing that they were straying into dangerous territory, Ginny jumped up. “You hungry?” Harry looked surprised but nodded. “Starving, actually.” “Well I promised you I’d teach you how to cook, and no time like the present!” Ginny said with enthusiasm. Harry looked at her like she was crazy. “Ginny, it’s nearly 4 am!” He protested weakly. Ginny fixed him with a stare. “I thought you were hungry?” Ginny stuck out her hand and Harry took it with a sigh. Ignoring the tingle that ran through her arm, she heaved him to his feet and together they went into the small kitchen. “Alright” Ginny said rubbing her hands. “so what have we got here…” “I don’t have much.” Responded Harry a bit sheepishly. “I haven’t had food delivered in a bit. I’ve only got a small roast and some vegetable that I was going to make a stew with.” “hmmm, well how about a Sunday dinner? A roast, some vegetables, if you have some flour I can make some bread. That’s perfect” Said Ginny happily. Harry nodded and pulled the meat from his small icebox. He immediately set it on the counter and began salting it. “What are you doing??” Ginny cried. Harry looked up in surprise. “Um, just getting it ready?” Ginny stalked over and yanked the salt from his hand. “If you salt it now it’ll draw all the moisture from the meat, and it’ll be tough and dry! You need to let it sit and get to room temperature and then salt it right before it goes in!” “Ooookkkkaaay” Harry drew out, again apparently attempting to discern her sanity. “Harry, Harry, Harry” said Ginny in a sing song voice. “You’ll just have to learn to trust me.” Harry laughed and nodded and together they set about preparing the rest of the dinner. Harry began working on some bread. Ginny, finished with the vegetables, turned in time to see flour fly into Harry’s face as he attempted to knead the dough. Ginny laughed as Harry scowled at her. “Wow, Harry, that’s a good look on you!” Ginny wished she were kidding. Harry’s scowl deepened and he grabbed another handful of flour. Ginny stopped laughing. “Harry…don’t do it. Do you have any idea how long it takes to get flour out of long hair? Harry, NO” Ginny screeched and bolted as Harry lunged for her. She made it nearly to the doorway but was done in by Harry’s longer frame, and his arms wrapped around her. He pinned her to him with one arm, and then grinning evilly, sprinkled flour all over Ginny’s head as she squirmed and yelled. Harry ran out of flour and Ginny stopped and looked up at him. The atmosphere seemed to flip like a switch, and Harry’s arm wrapped even tighter around her. Her heart pounding, Ginny leaned into him, not taking her eyes off his. Harry paused, eyes burrowing into hers, before slowly lowering his head. Ginny could see the subtle shading of his eyes he was so close. They both jumped when a loud bump sounded in the kitchen. The oven was ready. Ginny turned back, hoping that Harry would ignore it, but the moment was broken, and they quickly returned to finishing the meal, Ginny, at least, blushing furiously and not looking at Harry. They sat with a cup of tea while the roast cooked, talking and laughing, and sharing glances that seemed to linger more than they should as the smell of the meal filled the home. When it was finally finished, Harry cut them both a portion, before digging in himself. His eyes went wide as soon as he took the first bite. “Thish ish amazhing!” He said around a mouthful! Ginny laughed and took a bite. “It’s not bad, but my mum makes a Sunday dinner that would put you into a coma! You should come try it sometime.” “A bit early to be meeting the family, isn’t it?” Harry teased back. Ginny stopped, thinking hard. Tomorrow was actually Sunday, and suddenly the idea of not seeing Harry tomorrow seemed unthinkable. Something was happening, Ginny knew it and she didn’t want to lose it. “Actually,” Ginny began carefully “Tomorrow, or technically today I guess, is Sunday. If you’d like, I know my mum would love to have another mouth to feed.” Ginny tried not to be sound too hopeful. Harry slowed his chewing. “You would be there?” Ginny nodded. “….Yeah. Yeah I’d love to come.” Ginny smiled and they went back to their food. It wasn’t until Ginny was on her way home that Ginny realized that she had just asked out Harry Potter. And to her parents house with the rest of her family. The realization made her stomach dropped. Tomorrow, at the very least, would not be boring. |
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