Chapter 15: Reaching Harry

The knock was so timid that Ron didn�t even hear it at first.

Then again, he was a bit preoccupied at the time. He had been busy rummaging through his desk (or more accurately, ransacking it) in search of anything that could pass for a rag, after he discovered that he must have failed to screw the cap back on the ink bottle tightly enough sometime earlier, and its contents had bled all over desk, rendering the stack of quizzes he�d collected just this morning completely unreadable--and, most unfortunately, ungradeable too.

There was no rag to be found, however, so he was forced to improvise by tearing off a generous piece of cloth from one of his extra work robes. He proceeded to dab on the slowly spreading pool of indigo, mumbling a few choice profanities under his breath along the way. By the time that soft tapping came at the doorframe, he was far too engrossed with the bloody clean-up job to notice someone had come to see him.

�Er... Professor?�

Startled, Ron looked up. �Harry!�

Harry leaned his shoulder against the jamb, eying him with uncertainty. �Should I come back, sir? I can come back later, if you�re busy-�

�No, no, I�m not busy...�

Ron tossed his make-shift rag aside, having decided this was the best he�d be able to do; the quizzes were unsalvageable, and that was that. No use crying over spilled milk, or ink in this case.

�I was just tidying up in here,� he said. �Bit of mess, as you can see.�

Harry looked as if he wanted to laugh, but couldn�t be sure whether that would be appropriate or not. Instead, he stood awkwardly at the door, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, hands clasped at his back.

�Come in,� Ron said, waving him in. With a casual swish of his wand, he cleared the other chair of books and papers, then gestured for Harry to take a seat, which Harry finally did, after some time-- though not, Ron noted, without a look of slight trepidation, as if he were awaiting some sort of onerous trial.

Ron had forgotten how painfully withdrawn Harry had been those first few months of their fifth year, how quiet and introspective he�d been, and how it would often take a world of effort from Ron and Hermione to bring him out of his shell, and find glimmers of the Harry they knew and loved. The harrowing events of fourth year had taken their toll on him--and badly so. Ron remembered well the violent nightmares his best friend had had to suffer through for months after Cedric Diggory�s death, the pained moaning and wailing as he flailed about in bed, and the hours he�d stay up and sit at the window sill after shaking himself out of those dreams, staring out into nothingness.

For a while, no one--not even Ron and Hermione--knew if he�d ever be able to move past what had happened, and once again be the person they�d all come to know. He did, though. At least in the history Ron remembered. The specter of Cedric�s death faded eventually, slowly but surely, as did the threat of Voldemort�s impending doom. Indeed, they had all managed to make it to early adulthood before the Dark Lord reentered their lives.

For the last time, Ron had thought.

But that was then. History had already been altered, and irrevocably so. Ron knew that this time, the threats were real, and the ever-present worries that Harry carried with him were not unfounded. Not even Ron could tell him otherwise.

At length, Harry cleared his throat and said, �You... wanted to see me?�

�Er... yes... yes, I did...�

Harry furrowed his brow slightly and laced his fingers, bouncing his thumbs off each other in an antsy manner. �Did I do something wrong, Professor?�

�No, no, it�s nothing like that, Harry,� Ron said. He couldn�t help but laugh; God knew he and Harry and Hermione had got into more than their share of trouble while at Hogwarts. Of course it would be perfectly natural for Harry to ask that question.

�Oh,� he said. �Why did you want to see me, then? Is this about the Fidelius charm? Because if you�ve changed your mind, I completely understand-�

�No, it�s not about that, either.�

�Oh,� he said again.

�Harry, I talked to Remus Lupin...�

It wasn�t an outright lie; Ron had talked to him recently, albeit at Emily�s wedding. With that in mind, Ron decided this was really more of a mental reservation rather than a lie. Lie or no lie, however, there was no mistaking the sudden brightness that sprang up in Harry�s eyes. Ron saw him straighten in his seat ever so slightly, his head tilted somewhat, as if in anticipation of what Ron was about to say.

�You did?�

�I... wanted to go over some things with him before I took over this class,� Ron explained. This sounded logical enough, didn�t it? �He talked a great deal about you, Harry.�

Harry broke the gaze and stared down at his hands. He had never told Ron this back in fifth year, but at the time, Ron had suspected--and his suspicion was confirmed much later, when Harry eventually admitted it--that Harry had often thought about Remus at that time. With Sirius still a hunted fugitive then, and hence largely unavailable, Harry had been devoid of a father figure at a time when he most desperately needed one. And though Dumbledore, and even Ron�s dad, had tried to reach out to him, Ron reckoned they could tap into only so much of the hell he had been going through.

�He said you were a very bright, very enthusiastic student. Always eager to get your hands into everything.�

�Yeah,� Harry muttered, �that's me, good old Harry Potter. Can always count on him to be on all the time.�

Ron leaned over the desk. �I know you�ve been through quite an ordeal, Harry,� he said. �I�d say it�s quite understandable that you�re overwhelmed.�

Harry looked up at him, eyeing him with a bit of disbelief, as if he couldn�t quite fathom that someone would have understood what he was going through. Then, after some time, he said, �Everyone says I ought to just get on with it. That I should just stop dwelling on it, that it wasn�t my fault...�

�It isn�t, you know.�

�But how can it not be?� he said. �Everything that�s happened is because Voldemort was trying to get to me...� As if realizing what he�d just said, he quickly corrected himself. �I mean... you-know-who...�

Ron smiled. �It�s all right, you can say his name,� he said. �Bit silly to avoid saying his name, don�t you think?�

Harry chuckled. �Ron doesn�t seem to think so,� he said. �He can�t ever seem to say it.�

Well, thought Ron, give him a few years, and he�ll get there...

�Harry, it�s not your fault. Maybe that�s a little hard to believe right now, and maybe that�s going to take you some time to accept, but it�s the truth.�

Quietly, Harry said, �What if more people get hurt?�

Ron let out a heavy exhale. He couldn�t lie and tell Harry that wouldn�t happen; history told him it would. History told him many people would be hurt.

�Everyone is fighting hard to make sure Voldemort doesn�t win, Harry. Believe that.�

�Professor?�

�Yes?�

�There�s... something else.�

�What is it?�

Harry looked away again, as if trying to gather the courage to continue. �My scar... it�s been hurting again...� He lifted his eyes once more, meeting Ron�s gaze. �When it burns... Professor Dumbledore told me once that whenever Voldemort�s especially powerful, or there�s danger coming, that�s when my scar starts hurting...�

Ron was afraid of this. It meant, of course, that something was imminent.

�Have you told Professor Dumbledore about this?�

Harry shook his head.

�Harry, I think he�ll need to know.�

�He�ll just worry about me,� Harry said. �I�m under enough guard as it is, what with Ron and Hermione breathing down my neck at every turn...�

Ron tried not to laugh. �They just want to make sure you�re all right, I�d bet.�

�Reckon so.�

�You really should tell him, though,� Ron said.

�I s�pose you�re right...�

After a while, Ron said, �Well, I think perhaps I�ve taken up enough of your time. Go on, then... Ron and Hermione are surely wondering where you are by now.�

Harry smiled. �I�m sure they are.�

He got up and walked towards the door, and just as he reached it, he paused, then turned around. �Thank you,� he said.

He looked as if he wanted to say more, but couldn�t think of any other words. Ron simply nodded and gave him a smile as he watched him leave. His eye caught the mess on his desk once more, and he summoned the rag back to his hand, rubbing furiously at the stain that had now set into the wood, when the sound of his door opening and closing got his attention.

�Back again, Harry?�

There was no one there.

�That�s odd,� he said, shaking his head in confusion. �Blimey, the stress is making me all nutters...�

�Oh, I don�t know, Ron... You have to admit, you�ve always been a bit off-kilter...�

Ron�s breath caught in his throat. His eyes shot up, quickly darting around the room, but seeing nothing there.

Oh God, that had been her voice. It had been Hermione�s voice.

Then suddenly, the air in front of him rippled, and a figure materialized out of nothingness.

�Hermione...?�

She smiled at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, the invisibility cloak she�d been wearing pooled around her feet. And in the next instant, she flung herself into his arms, burying her face in his chest, then slowly, as if still not quite believing she was here right in front of him, he touched his hands to her face and pressed his mouth to hers.

�You�re here,� he breathed. �I... I can�t believe it...�

She traced his jaw with her finger, tears streaming unimpeded down her cheeks now, as her eyes swept his face, as if to take him all in.

�I can,� she said. �I can.�

He was sleeping. Sleep was deceptive, Harry thought. It made it seem as if Luke wasn�t in pain, that he didn�t spend his waking hours in agonizing, burning heat, with only a few hours of respite at a time from Harry and Ginny each taking turns whispering the cooling charm over him.

At least Emily seemed to be able to respond fully to the cooling charm. Thank God for small miracles, at least, and Harry would take any right now, however small they were. At least she was older, and like Harry, she seemed to have the resistance to get by from day to day, though fatigue wore them both down easily.

But Luke was far too young for this, and nothing appeared to be helping, really. All they could do was sit at his bedside hour after hour, watching over him, caressing his forehead, reassuring him that things would somehow turn out okay.

Only Harry didn�t know anymore if he believed that.

Ron had been gone for six days now. And although Hermione was convinced that there had to have been a mistake, that the remains found at the Riddle house couldn�t be him, Harry knew the prospects were grim. He could feel himself growing weaker by the day, and he was beginning to wonder just how much longer he had before he vanished altogether.

Luke stirred in his sleep. His skin was still on fire, though Harry�s hand had grown numb to its heat. Gently, Harry brushed away the damp fringe clinging to his forehead, and touch was enough to wake Luke, whose eyes fluttered open.

�Dad?� he said weakly.

�Right here, mate,� Harry said.

�What�s wrong?�

�Nothing,� he said. �Nothing�s wrong. Just go back to sleep, all right?�

�Can�t,� Luke said. �Too hot.�

�I know. You�ll feel better if you go back to sleep, though.�

�Dad...�

�Yeah?�

Luke shifted again, this time, coming to sitting. �I just remembered... tomorrow�s your birthday.�

Harry smiled. It had been the last thing on his mind. He�d actually forgotten until this moment.

�So it is,� he said. �Your dad�s getting old.�

Luke laughed softly; Harry was relieved to hear the sound of his laughter once again. It had been so long since he heard it that he�d almost forgot the sound of it.

�Aren�t we going to do something special for your birthday?�

�Bit silly when you get to my age,� Harry said.

�I�m sorry your birthday isn�t so happy, Dad,� Luke said. �I wish I could do something to make it better for you.�

Harry felt his eyes sting with unexpected tears. �Tell you what would make me happy,� he said. �If you and your sister could get all better. That�s all I care about.�

He could feel his son�s eyes on him, even in the darkness. Then he heard him speak.

�I�m not afraid of dying,� Luke said. �Is that what you�re worried about? I�m not afraid...�

Harry pulled Luke into him, holding onto him tightly, as if he�d evaporate if he let him go. �You�re not dying,� he whispered. �You have to believe me when I say that...�

It was a promise he intended to keep, though he had no idea how he was ever going to fulfill it. But he was going to, somehow.

�Go back to sleep, all right?�

�Okay...�

Harry watched him settle back into bed again, and when his breath slowed into a tell-tale rhythm, he slipped out of the room, leaning his forehead against the door when he closed it. He felt a hand on his shoulder in the next moment, and he flinched slightly, then turned around.

�I�m sorry, I didn�t mean to startle you,� Ginny said.

She looked hurt. She looked as if she was hurt that her touch could startle him so.

�It�s all right,� he said.

�I... heard you two talking,� she said. �He�s right, you know. We should do something special for your birthday.�

Harry let out an incredulous laugh, then started to make his way down the stairs.

�What?� she said, following him, intercepting him at the bottom of the staircase. �What the hell was that?�

�My best friend just died, in case you�ve forgotten,� he said. �Your brother! Forgive me if I don�t quite feel like celebrating, Gin.�

She looked as if she�d just been struck. �How dare you... That is not fair, and you know it! You know how much it�s killing me knowing that Ron�s gone... How dare you imply that I don�t care!!�

�I�m sorry,� he said. �I�m sorry-�

�Sod being sorry!! I don�t want you to be sorry! I am so sick and tired of this, Harry!!�

With a resigned sigh, he said, �What do you want?�

She shook her head at him disbelievingly. Deep down, he knew what she wanted, but he needed to hear her say it anyway. �I want my husband back!� she said.

Her voice shook with anguish, and on instinct, Harry reached out to wrap his arms around her, but she pushed him away.

�I want my husband, don�t you understand that??� she said. �I am losing you already, and damn it, I am not going to let go one second sooner than I have to!�

�I can�t help what�s happening,� he said quietly. �Maybe it�s time you accepted that.�

The pain in her eyes deepened, as she stared at him in shock. �Are you telling me you�ve accepted it?� she said, her voice barely registering above a whisper.

�I�m saying Voldemort�s getting closer to his goal with each minute that passes,� he said. �I can feel it in my bones. Literally. No will to live--even the strongest one in the world--can fight that, Ginny. I�m not God.�

�No, you�re certainly not,� she said. �And so help me, I never thought I�d say this, Harry Potter, but you are a bloody coward!�

The words sliced into him mercilessly, and he actually recoiled. But he deserved it. He knew he did.

�It kills me to even think those words, Harry, but it�s the truth,� she said. She was crying freely now, and all Harry wanted to do was take her into his arms, but he knew that was the last thing she would let him do at that moment. �You�re running away from the people who love you, and for God�s sake, you�ve already given up! You�ve bloody given up, when you should be doing everything in your power to will it not to happen!! You should be railing against it! You should be attacking it with every ounce of fight you�ve got in you!!�

Harry shook his head. He was tired. He was so tired of this. �I can�t do this right now,� he said. �I just can�t...�

He had never really had the urge to run away before, but the instinct to do so seemed too powerful at the moment. He just... needed to be somewhere where he could get his thoughts in order. Because at that moment, everything was just one big, bloody jumble. He started to head towards the door, then felt Ginny grab his arm.

�Where are you going?� she said. �Harry-�

�You say you need me to fight this,� he said, �well I can�t. Not until I do something else first. I probably should have done it a long time ago.�

Her grip tightened. �Wait a minute, I�m sorry... I�m sorry, okay? Harry, please don�t go, I just needed to-�

He interrupted her with a kiss, assuring her there was absolutely nothing to be sorry about. This wasn�t her fault; none of it was. But he knew what he needed to do, and it was bloody time he did it.

�I love you,� he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. �But I need to do this, all right?� He kissed her again, this time cupping her face in his hands and lingering a bit longer than he should have. �Trust me. Please.�

And he saw in her eyes that she did.