The Long Road Home, chapter 10
Rated:R
Summary: Sequel to Ginny's Gift. Read that story first. Harry must deal with the aftermath of Voldemort's defeat.
The beginning of term was busier than Ginny had expected it to be. There were prefects' meetings to attend, and general settling in. Minerva McGonagall had been promoted to the position of headmistress, and things were not being done in quite the same way as they had been during Dumbledore's tenure. On top of that, Ginny hadn't bargained on having quite as much homework to do in the early weeks of term. As a result, she didn't have a chance to meet with Hermione until the end of the first week of September.
"I'm sorry, Hermione," she said as she rushed into the nearly empty library after her last class on Friday. "I meant to be in sooner. I just haven't had any time so far."
Hermione looked up from her desk, her face going pink as she quickly hid the piece of parchment she was reading. Ginny thought she'd caught a glimpse of Ron's writing. "It's all right, Ginny," she replied too quickly. "I understand. I've been quite busy myself. It's one thing learning how to run the library with Madam Pince about to help me if I get into trouble. It's quite another to do it all on my own. Although I think I've found a less confusing way to catalogue things… But you won't be interested in that."
Ginny gave Hermione a weak sort of smile. "I've got a chance to help now, since I don't have that much homework over the weekend at least. And what I've got I can put off. Where do you want me to start?"
For a moment, Hermione looked as if she might want to tell Ginny off for putting this project ahead of her schoolwork, but to Ginny's relief, she merely said, "I wish I knew…"
"Haven't you been looking?"
"Yes, but I haven't found anything useful yet. It's not as if this is an everyday occurrence. There's just nothing written on the subject. It's going to be a lot of paging through books looking for any sort of mention…"
"Just like last spring," Ginny mused, her heart sinking. There had been four of them looking for that spell at the time, and it had still taken them over six weeks to find it. And the number of books they'd had to look through had been limited. Looking about the library now, with its shelves cramped with volumes, it seemed as if they could look for years and not find anything. Heaving a sigh, she added, "Just tell me what I can do to help."
Hermione was looking piercingly at Ginny. "You know what might be best?" she began. "If you took that book we found the spell in and translated it. Maybe there was some sort of provision in there. It foresaw the defeat of Voldemort, after all. Perhaps it has the means to restore Harry's powers to him. I'll be right back."
Ginny's heart leapt at the thought of having something concrete to do, as Hermione disappeared into the stacks. It wouldn't be easy, but the idea was more appealing to her than paging through random books on the off chance of finding something. "Do you think there might be something in there?" Ginny asked when Hermione reappeared with a mouldy-looking tome bound in cracking brown leather.
"I honestly don't know, but it's as good a place to look as any. You ought to be the one to work on it. You'd be faster at it than I am. You wouldn't have to sit round here while you worked at it, either. You could take it with you and work at it whenever you have a moment to spare."
A look of quiet complicity passed between the girls. Hermione was in the same predicament as Ginny at the moment. She, too, was trying to fill every spare moment in order to make time pass more quickly, because every second that passed was one less second between now and the time she'd see Ron again.
"How is Harry, really?" asked Hermione after a moment.
"He's adjusting, I think… I hope. Sometimes I wonder if he isn't putting on a good show for us all. I wish he could have another job. I don't think the one he has is really suited to him, but then nothing would be, would it?"
"No, that's just it. He ought to be playing professional Quidditch or something."
"He told me… He told me flying was what he was going to miss the most. It isn't fair, Hermione. He shouldn't have had to give that up. The wizarding world hasn't even recognised what he's done."
"I think they're just being cautious this time. From everything I've read, they had a huge celebration that time Harry was a baby and they believed Voldemort was gone for good. It turned out not to be true. I think they want to make extra certain this time before they declare a wizarding holiday."
"And even at that they won't know the extent of it."
"He wants it to be that way. You know that. And with any sort of luck it'll only be temporary."
"I suppose so," Ginny replied, but deep down, she didn't feel very confident about finding a way to restore Harry's powers to him. With a sigh, she chose a seat at a nearby table, took out a quill and some parchment, opened the ancient book and painstakingly began to translate.
She'd been at it a while when a group of girls came into the library. Ginny looked up, irritated. Who was so keen that she'd come into the library on the first Friday of term? One look gave her even more cause to be annoyed. It was a group of Slytherin girls, led by Diana Bloodworth, which included Pansy Parkinson's younger sister, Zinnia.
Diana nodded to Ginny and smirked. She'd been taking great pleasure in reminding Ginny of Rita Skeeter's recent article, which had speculated on Harry and Ginny's impending wedding. Ginny looked pointedly away.
"What was that all about?" asked Hermione, coming over once the Slytherin girls had checked out the books they wanted and left.
"Nothing," said Ginny obstinately.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"You're certain you don't have anything better to do?"
"Of course. You don't think I've taken to going round with the Slytherins, do you? Listen, I just want to focus on helping Harry. I haven't got time for their schoolgirl gossip."
Hermione looked as if she wanted to say something. Ginny could practically hear her saying, "Ignore them," as she'd said to Harry and Ron so many times in the past. Ginny was extremely thankful when Hermione went back to the book she'd been paging through without further comment.
*
The following morning Ginny bolted her breakfast, intending to get back to her translation as quickly as possible. It was rather dull work, as she could find nothing in the text she was working on that seemed as if it would have any sort of impact on Harry. But there was nothing for it other than to press on and hope she'd come across something useful.
Her only consolation was that Hermione wasn't having any better luck. She'd invited Ginny to come up to her rooms in the staff wing after breakfast so that they could both work uninterrupted, and Ginny was in a hurry to get started.
But as she was finishing up, an interruption came in the form of a large number of owls flying in with the morning post. Ginny looked up in spite of herself, her heart giving a hopeful leap, but there was no flash of white amid the greys and browns, although she caught sight of Pigwidgeon fluttering excitedly towards the staff table. She looked back into her empty plate, disappointed and trying very hard not to be jealous of Hermione, telling herself Harry was very busy at work and didn't have time to write letters. She didn't expect to see a small, grey lump of feathers plunk down in front of her and promptly pass out in the remains of her breakfast.
Ginny felt of brief resurgence of hope as the thought crossed her mind that maybe Hedwig was still put out enough with Harry to have refused to deliver his message, and so he'd sent Errol to her instead, but she knew she was only fooling herself. Hedwig had been happy enough with her new cage to move into it when Harry presented her with it, and while she may not have completely forgiven Harry, she wasn't angry enough to refuse to deliver his mail. She took too much pride in her work for that.
As Ginny untied the letter from the unconscious owl's leg, she recognised her mother's writing. It could have been worse, she told herself. It could have been the twins sending her another advert for Lady Marmalade's Amazing, All-in-One Aphrodisiac and Contraceptive Potion (guaranteed seventy-nine percent effective). Fighting back her disappointment, she unfolded the alarmingly thick parchment and began to read.
Dear Ginny,
I've been looking at a blank sheet of parchment for days, it seems, wondering where to begin. I suppose it ought to be with an apology. I feel I need to apologise to you for not letting you have more time alone with Harry this summer. Recent events have reminded me of a time when I first learned how precious time together can be. I'm not talking about the physical side of things here, but the little things like holding hands and quiet walks. By hovering over the two of you this summer, I denied you a chance at that side of things.
"Wonderful," Ginny thought to herself. "Why did she have to wait until I was back at school before she came to that conclusion?" But then, as she read on, she began to understand a bit better.
I wouldn't be completely honest if I didn't admit that your father had to remind me of what my own youth was like. He also pointed out that you and I are not the same -- you sent Valentines and get well cards, while I brewed love potions.
Ginny felt herself begin to blush. As much as she tried to deny it to everyone, she had not sent that Valentine to Harry in her first year. She had no idea who had, but she strongly suspected it had been the twins. It was just like them to pull off a trick like that. As for the singing get well card, she couldn't deny sending that--she'd delivered it directly to Harry in the hospital wing, after all--but she'd been talked into it by a well-meaning girl in her year. If she'd known it would become an event she'd never live down, she would never have done it.
I can imagine what you're thinking of your mother at the moment, but you can see that I do remember what it's like to be young and in love. I'd be a hypocrite if I said your father and I never tried anything before we were married, but we didn't try everything. We waited for that, because we had good reason.
Ginny wished she could shrivel up and die on the spot. She did not want to think of her parents doing anything along those lines. And as she continued reading in spite of herself, it only got worse. Her mother launched into a story about her Uncle Bilius having to leave school before his seventh year because her Aunt Lucretia was expecting a child. Her mother went to great lengths to describe how miserable their existence had been; how they'd had to work their fingers to the bone to make ends meet; how neither of them had been able to get a proper job, since neither had finished school; how Aunt Lucretia's family had turned their daughter out in shame. How, in the end, the baby had come too early because Aunt Lucretia has been too young to handle the stress. How they couldn't send for the midwife because they'd had no money to pay her. How the baby wouldn't likely have survived in any case…
Ginny wanted to stop reading, but it was as if something was forcing her to keep slogging through this tale of woe. When she'd finished, she thought to herself that she could have gone on very well without knowing all that. The only bright spot that she could see in the entire saga was the line where her mother admitted to wanting to kill her father for insisting they name their first born after Uncle Bilius, who had seen the Grim the year Ginny's mother had been expecting Bill.
The point I'm trying to make in all this is that any opportunities they might have had were all shot in one moment of passion. I imagine you're thinking now that your father and I both finished school, and we're still poor, but the reasons for that are different. I know you're old enough to hear those reasons now, and one day I shall discuss them with you. I just don't feel ready to do so yet. The memories came crashing in on me the day your father was hurt. One day we will tell you why things are a certain way in our family, but this sort of thing ought to be told face to face, and not in a letter.
I know you and Harry love each other, but I want you to be responsible and wait until you're finished school. I will promise you this, however. When you come home for Christmas, I will promise to give you and Harry time together. That doesn't mean that Harry will be spending time in your room under his invisibility cloak…
Ginny's heart began to pound out of control. How had her mother found out about that? Ginny had never known about Harry's cloak until last year, when he'd shown it to her. How had her mother been able to piece that together?
I may not be the most clever person in the world, but I do know that the bathroom was empty when I came up to your room to wake you up, and that no one came down the stairs while I was in your room. Yet somehow Harry managed to make it down to the bathroom while I was up in Ron's room looking for him.
I don't want you to think I'm uncaring, but I also want you to use your head. Most of all I want you to finish school. You are possessed of some very rare talents. You have an opportunity to do a great many things in your life. It would be sad to see that potential wasted.
"Oh, did Weasley get a love letter? It's got to be a good one judging from the way you're blushing."
Ginny looked up, reddening further in spite of herself. She'd been too absorbed in this… this… she wasn't even sure what to think of this letter from her mother. It was like a monstrosity, really, and she'd been too caught up in it to notice what was going on around her. She saw that Diana Bloodworth had come over from the Slytherin table, followed by her usual cronies, who gathered round.
"Come on, what's it say?" she taunted. "I could use a good laugh." Diana tried to grab the parchment out of Ginny's hand, but Ginny was too fast for her. "What's the matter? Is it too hot to share? Or just too syrupy?"
"I think she's wishing one of the other members of the famous Gryffindor trio had taken a job here this year," came another comment, the sneer evident in the tone. "Too bad we're stuck with the Mudblood."
The general buzz of conversation at the Gryffindor table died away, and silence fell as the Gryffindors all turned to stare at Zinnia Parkinson, who had spoken. Over and above the fact that Mudblood was considered nearly obscene, everyone knew whom the Slytherin had been referring to. Ginny remained silent, as did the others, however. It didn't matter to Ginny at the moment, as she had two bigger fish to fry first, but she wouldn't forget this. No one had to say anything in reply, really, for the Gryffindors had seen what the Slytherins had not.
"And just what is going on here?" asked a crisp voice. Headmistress McGonagall apparently hadn't lost her nose for trouble and had turned up at the table in record time. "Move along now. It's Saturday. I'm sure you've all got better things to do than hang round the Great Hall."
The Slytherin girls slouched off, leaving Ginny doubly annoyed, first with her mother and now with the Slytherins. As she was getting up from the table, she couldn't help but hear some of the whispers from the older Gryffindor girls. Even though she knew they meant well, they'd suddenly seemed to find Ginny's love life quite interesting, as a result of the Rita Skeeter article. While they weren't nasty about it in the same way the Slytherin girls were, Ginny still didn't like being the focus of school gossip.
She felt a nudge in her side, and she turned to find herself looking up into Colin Creevey's hazel eyes. "I'll be photographer at your wedding if you want," he said quietly, leaning in so she could hear him and putting a hand on her shoulder. There was enough of a glint in his eye to let Ginny know he hadn't been taking any of the gossip seriously, and she was grateful for that.
"That would be lovely, Colin," she replied. "I'll let you know when we've set a date."
Ginny made her way up to the staff table, where Hermione was finishing up her breakfast. She was still cringing with embarrassment over her mother's letter. She wondered how Hermione's mother felt about Hermione and Ron's relationship. Hermione was the only daughter in her family, too, after all. Of course, perhaps Hermione's parents hadn't had such a close brush with teenage pregnancy, either…
Hermione had to show Ginny the way up to her rooms in the staff wing, which was located in a part of the castle Ginny had never been in before. The girls had to navigate two or three hidden passages before reaching what looked like a blank expanse of stone wall, which Hermione tapped with her wand while muttering a password that Ginny was unable to make out.
"Sorry," commented Hermione, as they continued, "I'm not supposed to let any student know the password. Technically I don't think I'm even supposed to bring you up here…"
"Didn't you used to go visit Hagrid a lot when he was still alive?"
"Well, yes, but he didn't live in the staff wing, did he? In any case, I'm allowed to have guests and you're here as my guest. Here we are."
Hermione had opened a stout wooden door to reveal a cosy sitting room. A fire was crackling merrily in the grate, and the walls were lined with bookshelves. There was another door at the far end of the room, which had to lead to a bedroom.
Hermione chose a large book from a haphazard pile on the coffee table and plunked down in an armchair with it. Ginny moved towards the sofa with her bag, but Hermione stopped her. "You might be more comfortable using my desk, Ginny. You'll need a spot to write."
But Ginny wasn't sure she was ready to get started just yet. "Can I ask you about something first?" she asked, taking a seat on the sofa. "It's… well, it's personal," she got out, feeling her cheeks redden.
"Of course. What is it?"
"Well…" Ginny wasn't sure how to begin. "You know how Mum was hovering over us all summer. Watching. Making sure no one got up to anything too dodgy…"
Hermione was nodding vigorously. "How could I miss it? She told Ron and me off, too, you know."
"Yes, well, look what I got in the post today." She held out the letter from her mother to Hermione. "Could you read that and tell me, is your mother that bad? Is anyone else that bad? And what am I going to do about it?"
Hermione gave Ginny a searching look as she took the letter. Ginny couldn't bring herself to look at her friend as she read the letter. "What did you and Harry do?" Hermione asked suddenly after a few minutes, and Ginny could only assume that Hermione had reached the end.
"Nothing. He just sneaked down to my room the last night under his invisibility cloak. But we didn't do anything you and Ron haven't done." Hermione went pale at this. "Well, we just slept together. We only slept. Then in the morning, Mum came in before Harry had a chance to get out. He was able to hide under the cloak until she left, but as you can see, she worked out what was happening."
Hermione pursed her lips for a moment. "Well, to answer your question, no, my mum isn't that bad, but then Ron's never slept at our house. It's not as if she's never told me to be careful, though. As long as Ron and I have been together, I'm sure she's worked out a thing or two."
"But what am I going to do about Mum? She's driving me nuts with all this. Why can't she just let us be? It's not as if I've actually done anything that will get me into trouble. Not the sort she's worried about, anyway."
"You mean you and Harry haven't…"
"When did we have a chance to?"
"I thought on your birthday last year… You know, you were gone an awfully long time…"
"No, we didn't." Ginny paused for a moment. "I wanted to, but Harry told me he wasn't ready, and he stopped. I understand why he did that now. He knew about the spell by then, didn't he?"
Hermione nodded her confirmation.
"He thought he was going to have to leave us." She felt herself beginning to tear up, but she forced herself to go on. "And then, even though he didn't leave us physically, in a sense he did. He wasn't himself for most of the summer, but we had a long talk before his birthday, and he seemed to be better. But that was like having to start over again. Again. It's the second time we've had to do that. But once things began to get better, Mum wouldn't leave us alone. And then, you know about what happened to Dad last week, don't you?"
Hermione nodded again. "Ron wrote to me and told me. How is your dad, by the way?"
"He's home and resting according to Mum. That was in the last owl she sent me. But she doesn't think it's anything for me to worry about."
Hermione looked concerned for a moment. "Well, go on. What about Harry?"
"Harry came home from work unexpectedly while everyone else was at St Mungo's. I couldn't go because I hadn't finished packing yet, and we had the perfect opportunity then. He even asked me… But we couldn't. It was the wrong time of the month."
"Oh, Ginny, I'm sorry."
"And now I don't know when we're going to see each other again."
"What about the ball?"
"Yes, there is that, but it's so far away. And with no hope of a Hogsmeade weekend this autumn…" It had been announced at the beginning of term feast that there wouldn't be any Hogsmeade visits until the shops were ready to open, and that wouldn't be happening in the foreseeable future.
"Then you'll have plenty of time to get ready."
"Ron will be coming up for that, won't he?"
Hermione began to grin at that. "Don't worry about Ron. I'll keep him occupied. He won't notice a thing. You and Harry aren't the only ones having to do without, you know. It isn't as if we had that many chances over the summer, either, with your mum hovering about. It only gets worse once you know what you're missing."
Ginny stared for a moment. The normally staid Head Girl persona had dropped away. "Hermione!" she said at last, beginning to laugh, "I can't believe you just said that. And about my brother, too. There are details I don't want to know about my family members, thank you very much!"
"Oh, well, then I guess I won't be giving you any advice then."
"You damned well better!"
*
Harry stared at the blank parchment in front of him, wracking his brains for inspiration. Dear Ginny, he wrote and then stopped. No, that sounded too formal. He scratched that out and tried again. Hi Ginny! Too casual. He started over. Ginny… Then he stopped and stared some more.
Tomorrow would mark a week since Ginny had left for school, and he still hadn't written to her yet. His problem was he had no idea what to say to her. He'd tried over the past few days, tried what seemed like a hundred times to write to her. If only he could get started, he thought, it would all come to him. But it never did. On a few occasions he'd managed a sentence or two, but something was always wrong with it.
He'd received her letter on Wednesday morning. It had come with the regular owl post, addressed to the Burrow, but Harry had recognised the writing and immediately known it was for him. And it was huge. He'd never seen such a long letter in his life. And if he was perfectly honest with himself, it intimidated him. Did Ginny expect him to write the same sort of thing back to her?
He'd realised right away that one of the reasons she'd written so much was to kill the time it took to reach Hogwarts. She'd said at the beginning that she had just boarded the train and didn't feel like talking to anyone. And then when she'd closed she'd mentioned that they'd just arrived in Hogsmeade. That part of the letter wasn't the problem.
It was everything she'd written in between. And it wasn't as if he minded terribly the things she'd had to say. No, there were parts he'd read so often he'd memorised them by now. He'd been carrying the letter around with him as one of the few links he had left to her. It went along with the talisman that he still wore, and the dragon she'd given him for his birthday, which was lying on his pillow at the moment. It was just that he was afraid he wouldn't be able to respond in kind. He bit his lip in frustration and made himself put something down on the page.
Ginny, it's nice to hear from you. I hope your first day went all right. Is Snape still a git? Who have they hired for Defence this year? Things are OK here. Your dad seemed better today. Love, Harry
He immediately crumpled up the sheet of parchment. He could just imagine her reply: "Dear Harry, I'm glad things are going so well for you. I know how much thought and time you put into that letter. Love, Ginny." That bit about her dad wasn't even completely true. He'd got the impression that Mrs Weasley was very worried about her husband, although she was taking pains to hide it.
He had to get this done and soon. His lunch hour was ticking away. What he ought to write was his feelings. That's what she'd written, after all. But there was something daunting about putting them down in ink. It was more permanent somehow. He could just about say some of what he felt for Ginny, but he didn't know if he was ready to write it.
He decided to get out her letter for inspiration. Unfolding the parchment, he began to reread what to him was the most incomprehensible part: "My heart hurts to think that we have to be apart. It hurts. Physically. I can put my fist over the very spot. It's as if part of me has been torn away, and yet I know I'm my own person. I make my own decisions, I do what I want, and yet I'm not whole without you." As often as he'd read that over to himself, he still had trouble bending his mind around it. How was he worth even a small part of what she was? Especially now…
He bit his lip and started again. He would get this done.
Dear Ginny,
First let me say, I'm sorry it's taken me this long to write back to you. Please don't think I was too busy or didn't have time to write (although things are still hectic at the Ministry at the moment), because honestly you are all I thought about. I've been trying to write back to you ever since I got your letter, but it's difficult. I can't reply to your letter the way I want to. Nothing I ever wrote could ever be good enough. Believe me, I've been trying. I've crumpled up enough parchment to hide behind.
"I hope that's Ministry business you're working on there, Potter."
Harry scrambled to hide the parchment, not because it wasn't actually Ministry business, but because his letter to Ginny wasn't any of St John's affair. "It's my lunch hour. I was under the impression I could do what I wanted with my time."
"Your lunch hour is over. Just because you have a famous name doesn't mean everyone is going to fawn all over you."
Harry really wanted to reply with something nasty this time. St John had a talent for making remarks like this when no one else was around to hear it. Whenever one of the other solicitors was within earshot, he was all sweetness and light towards Harry, but Harry didn't think the others were really fooled by his act.
He was saved by having to answer by the sound of someone coming into the office. Looking up, he realised it was more than one person. His godfather was standing at the counter surrounded by a guard of Aurors. Once again, Sirius looked like he had when he'd was newly escaped from Azkaban, although his hair wasn't quite as long. It was matted, though, and his face was drawn. His eyes were focused, glittering with a desire for freedom.
Harry's stomach dropped to the floor, and he suddenly felt cold. After all these years as a fugitive, he'd finally been caught. As a member of the Order, Sirius had benefited from a certain level of protection due to Dumbledore's influence. But Dumbledore was dead now. And Sirius had been caught in Wormtail's stead. Again. Harry felt as if he was about to be sick.
He got to his feet shakily. "Sirius, is there anything I can do?"
"Sirius?" said St John. "On first name basis with wanted criminals now, are we?"
Harry ignored St John and the consequences of what he'd just revealed for the moment. All he cared about was his godfather. Sirius stared, wide-eyed, at Harry for a few seconds before saying, "No, Harry, everything's all right. I've caught him." The relief was evident in his tone.
Harry approached his godfather, but the Aurors seemed to crowd around him like a human shield. "If everything's all right, then why the guard?"
"Technically I haven't been pardoned yet. I'm here to work that out."
"You'll be here to see Hill, then."
"Yes."
Harry reached over to hold open the swinging door in the counter. "It's through here." The phalanx of Aurors moved as a body towards the opening. "You don't have to all come in with him, do you?" Harry asked, his voice rising in irritation. "He's hardly going to do anything. He's innocent and he's here to prove it."
"Move aside," grumbled one of the Aurors. "Don't interfere in official Ministry business. This is none of your affair."
"He's my godfather! Of course it's my affair!" Harry was fairly shouting now.
"What's going on here?" Hill had emerged from his office, no doubt attracted by the noise. Then he spotted Sirius and stopped short. "Sirius Black!"
"Mr Hill, Sirius is my godfather, and he's innocent," Harry interjected before anyone else could respond. "He can prove it to you, if you'd let him. You can, can't you?" Harry asked his godfather. Sirius nodded. "He doesn't need all these Aurors guarding him."
"It's standard procedure, Harry," said Hill calmly.
"I can vouch for him, Mr Hill. He isn't going to do anything. Use one of those Sincerity Charms on him and ask him!"
"Yes, that's an excellent idea. Move aside, please," Hill added to the Aurors as he drew his wand and trained it on Sirius. "Now, are you here with evidence of your innocence?"
"I am," replied Sirius.
Hill nodded. "All right," he said to the Aurors, "I'm satisfied. You can all go back to your department." The Aurors looked put out to a man, but they obeyed, breaking ranks and allowing Sirius to pass. "Harry, perhaps you should join us. St John can fill in for you while we hear your godfather's story. St John, can you please pull all files relevant to the Black case?"
St John did not look happy with this turn of events, but he could hardly say anything in protest. Harry grinned to himself as he followed Sirius into Hill's office.
A/N: A lot of readers were wondering what the unfortunate occurrence in the last chapter was. It was meant to be Arthur breaking his leg, but those author's notes were also a bit of a joke, as well as a tribute to Lemony Snicket.
Yes, there is an Arthur/Molly back-story being hinted at here. I don't think I'm going to be able to tell it in the context of this story, but I may write it as a separate fic, once I've finished this one.
Once again I need to thank Marian for all her help and ideas in this chapter. She's writing this story just as much as I am, as well as providing lots of support and laughs. Thanks also goes to Paula and Monique for their help and suggestions. Thanks to everyone for your reviews and continued support.
Chapter 11
Summary: Sequel to Ginny's Gift. Read that story first. Harry must deal with the aftermath of Voldemort's defeat.
The beginning of term was busier than Ginny had expected it to be. There were prefects' meetings to attend, and general settling in. Minerva McGonagall had been promoted to the position of headmistress, and things were not being done in quite the same way as they had been during Dumbledore's tenure. On top of that, Ginny hadn't bargained on having quite as much homework to do in the early weeks of term. As a result, she didn't have a chance to meet with Hermione until the end of the first week of September.
"I'm sorry, Hermione," she said as she rushed into the nearly empty library after her last class on Friday. "I meant to be in sooner. I just haven't had any time so far."
Hermione looked up from her desk, her face going pink as she quickly hid the piece of parchment she was reading. Ginny thought she'd caught a glimpse of Ron's writing. "It's all right, Ginny," she replied too quickly. "I understand. I've been quite busy myself. It's one thing learning how to run the library with Madam Pince about to help me if I get into trouble. It's quite another to do it all on my own. Although I think I've found a less confusing way to catalogue things… But you won't be interested in that."
Ginny gave Hermione a weak sort of smile. "I've got a chance to help now, since I don't have that much homework over the weekend at least. And what I've got I can put off. Where do you want me to start?"
For a moment, Hermione looked as if she might want to tell Ginny off for putting this project ahead of her schoolwork, but to Ginny's relief, she merely said, "I wish I knew…"
"Haven't you been looking?"
"Yes, but I haven't found anything useful yet. It's not as if this is an everyday occurrence. There's just nothing written on the subject. It's going to be a lot of paging through books looking for any sort of mention…"
"Just like last spring," Ginny mused, her heart sinking. There had been four of them looking for that spell at the time, and it had still taken them over six weeks to find it. And the number of books they'd had to look through had been limited. Looking about the library now, with its shelves cramped with volumes, it seemed as if they could look for years and not find anything. Heaving a sigh, she added, "Just tell me what I can do to help."
Hermione was looking piercingly at Ginny. "You know what might be best?" she began. "If you took that book we found the spell in and translated it. Maybe there was some sort of provision in there. It foresaw the defeat of Voldemort, after all. Perhaps it has the means to restore Harry's powers to him. I'll be right back."
Ginny's heart leapt at the thought of having something concrete to do, as Hermione disappeared into the stacks. It wouldn't be easy, but the idea was more appealing to her than paging through random books on the off chance of finding something. "Do you think there might be something in there?" Ginny asked when Hermione reappeared with a mouldy-looking tome bound in cracking brown leather.
"I honestly don't know, but it's as good a place to look as any. You ought to be the one to work on it. You'd be faster at it than I am. You wouldn't have to sit round here while you worked at it, either. You could take it with you and work at it whenever you have a moment to spare."
A look of quiet complicity passed between the girls. Hermione was in the same predicament as Ginny at the moment. She, too, was trying to fill every spare moment in order to make time pass more quickly, because every second that passed was one less second between now and the time she'd see Ron again.
"How is Harry, really?" asked Hermione after a moment.
"He's adjusting, I think… I hope. Sometimes I wonder if he isn't putting on a good show for us all. I wish he could have another job. I don't think the one he has is really suited to him, but then nothing would be, would it?"
"No, that's just it. He ought to be playing professional Quidditch or something."
"He told me… He told me flying was what he was going to miss the most. It isn't fair, Hermione. He shouldn't have had to give that up. The wizarding world hasn't even recognised what he's done."
"I think they're just being cautious this time. From everything I've read, they had a huge celebration that time Harry was a baby and they believed Voldemort was gone for good. It turned out not to be true. I think they want to make extra certain this time before they declare a wizarding holiday."
"And even at that they won't know the extent of it."
"He wants it to be that way. You know that. And with any sort of luck it'll only be temporary."
"I suppose so," Ginny replied, but deep down, she didn't feel very confident about finding a way to restore Harry's powers to him. With a sigh, she chose a seat at a nearby table, took out a quill and some parchment, opened the ancient book and painstakingly began to translate.
She'd been at it a while when a group of girls came into the library. Ginny looked up, irritated. Who was so keen that she'd come into the library on the first Friday of term? One look gave her even more cause to be annoyed. It was a group of Slytherin girls, led by Diana Bloodworth, which included Pansy Parkinson's younger sister, Zinnia.
Diana nodded to Ginny and smirked. She'd been taking great pleasure in reminding Ginny of Rita Skeeter's recent article, which had speculated on Harry and Ginny's impending wedding. Ginny looked pointedly away.
"What was that all about?" asked Hermione, coming over once the Slytherin girls had checked out the books they wanted and left.
"Nothing," said Ginny obstinately.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"You're certain you don't have anything better to do?"
"Of course. You don't think I've taken to going round with the Slytherins, do you? Listen, I just want to focus on helping Harry. I haven't got time for their schoolgirl gossip."
Hermione looked as if she wanted to say something. Ginny could practically hear her saying, "Ignore them," as she'd said to Harry and Ron so many times in the past. Ginny was extremely thankful when Hermione went back to the book she'd been paging through without further comment.
*
The following morning Ginny bolted her breakfast, intending to get back to her translation as quickly as possible. It was rather dull work, as she could find nothing in the text she was working on that seemed as if it would have any sort of impact on Harry. But there was nothing for it other than to press on and hope she'd come across something useful.
Her only consolation was that Hermione wasn't having any better luck. She'd invited Ginny to come up to her rooms in the staff wing after breakfast so that they could both work uninterrupted, and Ginny was in a hurry to get started.
But as she was finishing up, an interruption came in the form of a large number of owls flying in with the morning post. Ginny looked up in spite of herself, her heart giving a hopeful leap, but there was no flash of white amid the greys and browns, although she caught sight of Pigwidgeon fluttering excitedly towards the staff table. She looked back into her empty plate, disappointed and trying very hard not to be jealous of Hermione, telling herself Harry was very busy at work and didn't have time to write letters. She didn't expect to see a small, grey lump of feathers plunk down in front of her and promptly pass out in the remains of her breakfast.
Ginny felt of brief resurgence of hope as the thought crossed her mind that maybe Hedwig was still put out enough with Harry to have refused to deliver his message, and so he'd sent Errol to her instead, but she knew she was only fooling herself. Hedwig had been happy enough with her new cage to move into it when Harry presented her with it, and while she may not have completely forgiven Harry, she wasn't angry enough to refuse to deliver his mail. She took too much pride in her work for that.
As Ginny untied the letter from the unconscious owl's leg, she recognised her mother's writing. It could have been worse, she told herself. It could have been the twins sending her another advert for Lady Marmalade's Amazing, All-in-One Aphrodisiac and Contraceptive Potion (guaranteed seventy-nine percent effective). Fighting back her disappointment, she unfolded the alarmingly thick parchment and began to read.
Dear Ginny,
I've been looking at a blank sheet of parchment for days, it seems, wondering where to begin. I suppose it ought to be with an apology. I feel I need to apologise to you for not letting you have more time alone with Harry this summer. Recent events have reminded me of a time when I first learned how precious time together can be. I'm not talking about the physical side of things here, but the little things like holding hands and quiet walks. By hovering over the two of you this summer, I denied you a chance at that side of things.
"Wonderful," Ginny thought to herself. "Why did she have to wait until I was back at school before she came to that conclusion?" But then, as she read on, she began to understand a bit better.
I wouldn't be completely honest if I didn't admit that your father had to remind me of what my own youth was like. He also pointed out that you and I are not the same -- you sent Valentines and get well cards, while I brewed love potions.
Ginny felt herself begin to blush. As much as she tried to deny it to everyone, she had not sent that Valentine to Harry in her first year. She had no idea who had, but she strongly suspected it had been the twins. It was just like them to pull off a trick like that. As for the singing get well card, she couldn't deny sending that--she'd delivered it directly to Harry in the hospital wing, after all--but she'd been talked into it by a well-meaning girl in her year. If she'd known it would become an event she'd never live down, she would never have done it.
I can imagine what you're thinking of your mother at the moment, but you can see that I do remember what it's like to be young and in love. I'd be a hypocrite if I said your father and I never tried anything before we were married, but we didn't try everything. We waited for that, because we had good reason.
Ginny wished she could shrivel up and die on the spot. She did not want to think of her parents doing anything along those lines. And as she continued reading in spite of herself, it only got worse. Her mother launched into a story about her Uncle Bilius having to leave school before his seventh year because her Aunt Lucretia was expecting a child. Her mother went to great lengths to describe how miserable their existence had been; how they'd had to work their fingers to the bone to make ends meet; how neither of them had been able to get a proper job, since neither had finished school; how Aunt Lucretia's family had turned their daughter out in shame. How, in the end, the baby had come too early because Aunt Lucretia has been too young to handle the stress. How they couldn't send for the midwife because they'd had no money to pay her. How the baby wouldn't likely have survived in any case…
Ginny wanted to stop reading, but it was as if something was forcing her to keep slogging through this tale of woe. When she'd finished, she thought to herself that she could have gone on very well without knowing all that. The only bright spot that she could see in the entire saga was the line where her mother admitted to wanting to kill her father for insisting they name their first born after Uncle Bilius, who had seen the Grim the year Ginny's mother had been expecting Bill.
The point I'm trying to make in all this is that any opportunities they might have had were all shot in one moment of passion. I imagine you're thinking now that your father and I both finished school, and we're still poor, but the reasons for that are different. I know you're old enough to hear those reasons now, and one day I shall discuss them with you. I just don't feel ready to do so yet. The memories came crashing in on me the day your father was hurt. One day we will tell you why things are a certain way in our family, but this sort of thing ought to be told face to face, and not in a letter.
I know you and Harry love each other, but I want you to be responsible and wait until you're finished school. I will promise you this, however. When you come home for Christmas, I will promise to give you and Harry time together. That doesn't mean that Harry will be spending time in your room under his invisibility cloak…
Ginny's heart began to pound out of control. How had her mother found out about that? Ginny had never known about Harry's cloak until last year, when he'd shown it to her. How had her mother been able to piece that together?
I may not be the most clever person in the world, but I do know that the bathroom was empty when I came up to your room to wake you up, and that no one came down the stairs while I was in your room. Yet somehow Harry managed to make it down to the bathroom while I was up in Ron's room looking for him.
I don't want you to think I'm uncaring, but I also want you to use your head. Most of all I want you to finish school. You are possessed of some very rare talents. You have an opportunity to do a great many things in your life. It would be sad to see that potential wasted.
"Oh, did Weasley get a love letter? It's got to be a good one judging from the way you're blushing."
Ginny looked up, reddening further in spite of herself. She'd been too absorbed in this… this… she wasn't even sure what to think of this letter from her mother. It was like a monstrosity, really, and she'd been too caught up in it to notice what was going on around her. She saw that Diana Bloodworth had come over from the Slytherin table, followed by her usual cronies, who gathered round.
"Come on, what's it say?" she taunted. "I could use a good laugh." Diana tried to grab the parchment out of Ginny's hand, but Ginny was too fast for her. "What's the matter? Is it too hot to share? Or just too syrupy?"
"I think she's wishing one of the other members of the famous Gryffindor trio had taken a job here this year," came another comment, the sneer evident in the tone. "Too bad we're stuck with the Mudblood."
The general buzz of conversation at the Gryffindor table died away, and silence fell as the Gryffindors all turned to stare at Zinnia Parkinson, who had spoken. Over and above the fact that Mudblood was considered nearly obscene, everyone knew whom the Slytherin had been referring to. Ginny remained silent, as did the others, however. It didn't matter to Ginny at the moment, as she had two bigger fish to fry first, but she wouldn't forget this. No one had to say anything in reply, really, for the Gryffindors had seen what the Slytherins had not.
"And just what is going on here?" asked a crisp voice. Headmistress McGonagall apparently hadn't lost her nose for trouble and had turned up at the table in record time. "Move along now. It's Saturday. I'm sure you've all got better things to do than hang round the Great Hall."
The Slytherin girls slouched off, leaving Ginny doubly annoyed, first with her mother and now with the Slytherins. As she was getting up from the table, she couldn't help but hear some of the whispers from the older Gryffindor girls. Even though she knew they meant well, they'd suddenly seemed to find Ginny's love life quite interesting, as a result of the Rita Skeeter article. While they weren't nasty about it in the same way the Slytherin girls were, Ginny still didn't like being the focus of school gossip.
She felt a nudge in her side, and she turned to find herself looking up into Colin Creevey's hazel eyes. "I'll be photographer at your wedding if you want," he said quietly, leaning in so she could hear him and putting a hand on her shoulder. There was enough of a glint in his eye to let Ginny know he hadn't been taking any of the gossip seriously, and she was grateful for that.
"That would be lovely, Colin," she replied. "I'll let you know when we've set a date."
Ginny made her way up to the staff table, where Hermione was finishing up her breakfast. She was still cringing with embarrassment over her mother's letter. She wondered how Hermione's mother felt about Hermione and Ron's relationship. Hermione was the only daughter in her family, too, after all. Of course, perhaps Hermione's parents hadn't had such a close brush with teenage pregnancy, either…
Hermione had to show Ginny the way up to her rooms in the staff wing, which was located in a part of the castle Ginny had never been in before. The girls had to navigate two or three hidden passages before reaching what looked like a blank expanse of stone wall, which Hermione tapped with her wand while muttering a password that Ginny was unable to make out.
"Sorry," commented Hermione, as they continued, "I'm not supposed to let any student know the password. Technically I don't think I'm even supposed to bring you up here…"
"Didn't you used to go visit Hagrid a lot when he was still alive?"
"Well, yes, but he didn't live in the staff wing, did he? In any case, I'm allowed to have guests and you're here as my guest. Here we are."
Hermione had opened a stout wooden door to reveal a cosy sitting room. A fire was crackling merrily in the grate, and the walls were lined with bookshelves. There was another door at the far end of the room, which had to lead to a bedroom.
Hermione chose a large book from a haphazard pile on the coffee table and plunked down in an armchair with it. Ginny moved towards the sofa with her bag, but Hermione stopped her. "You might be more comfortable using my desk, Ginny. You'll need a spot to write."
But Ginny wasn't sure she was ready to get started just yet. "Can I ask you about something first?" she asked, taking a seat on the sofa. "It's… well, it's personal," she got out, feeling her cheeks redden.
"Of course. What is it?"
"Well…" Ginny wasn't sure how to begin. "You know how Mum was hovering over us all summer. Watching. Making sure no one got up to anything too dodgy…"
Hermione was nodding vigorously. "How could I miss it? She told Ron and me off, too, you know."
"Yes, well, look what I got in the post today." She held out the letter from her mother to Hermione. "Could you read that and tell me, is your mother that bad? Is anyone else that bad? And what am I going to do about it?"
Hermione gave Ginny a searching look as she took the letter. Ginny couldn't bring herself to look at her friend as she read the letter. "What did you and Harry do?" Hermione asked suddenly after a few minutes, and Ginny could only assume that Hermione had reached the end.
"Nothing. He just sneaked down to my room the last night under his invisibility cloak. But we didn't do anything you and Ron haven't done." Hermione went pale at this. "Well, we just slept together. We only slept. Then in the morning, Mum came in before Harry had a chance to get out. He was able to hide under the cloak until she left, but as you can see, she worked out what was happening."
Hermione pursed her lips for a moment. "Well, to answer your question, no, my mum isn't that bad, but then Ron's never slept at our house. It's not as if she's never told me to be careful, though. As long as Ron and I have been together, I'm sure she's worked out a thing or two."
"But what am I going to do about Mum? She's driving me nuts with all this. Why can't she just let us be? It's not as if I've actually done anything that will get me into trouble. Not the sort she's worried about, anyway."
"You mean you and Harry haven't…"
"When did we have a chance to?"
"I thought on your birthday last year… You know, you were gone an awfully long time…"
"No, we didn't." Ginny paused for a moment. "I wanted to, but Harry told me he wasn't ready, and he stopped. I understand why he did that now. He knew about the spell by then, didn't he?"
Hermione nodded her confirmation.
"He thought he was going to have to leave us." She felt herself beginning to tear up, but she forced herself to go on. "And then, even though he didn't leave us physically, in a sense he did. He wasn't himself for most of the summer, but we had a long talk before his birthday, and he seemed to be better. But that was like having to start over again. Again. It's the second time we've had to do that. But once things began to get better, Mum wouldn't leave us alone. And then, you know about what happened to Dad last week, don't you?"
Hermione nodded again. "Ron wrote to me and told me. How is your dad, by the way?"
"He's home and resting according to Mum. That was in the last owl she sent me. But she doesn't think it's anything for me to worry about."
Hermione looked concerned for a moment. "Well, go on. What about Harry?"
"Harry came home from work unexpectedly while everyone else was at St Mungo's. I couldn't go because I hadn't finished packing yet, and we had the perfect opportunity then. He even asked me… But we couldn't. It was the wrong time of the month."
"Oh, Ginny, I'm sorry."
"And now I don't know when we're going to see each other again."
"What about the ball?"
"Yes, there is that, but it's so far away. And with no hope of a Hogsmeade weekend this autumn…" It had been announced at the beginning of term feast that there wouldn't be any Hogsmeade visits until the shops were ready to open, and that wouldn't be happening in the foreseeable future.
"Then you'll have plenty of time to get ready."
"Ron will be coming up for that, won't he?"
Hermione began to grin at that. "Don't worry about Ron. I'll keep him occupied. He won't notice a thing. You and Harry aren't the only ones having to do without, you know. It isn't as if we had that many chances over the summer, either, with your mum hovering about. It only gets worse once you know what you're missing."
Ginny stared for a moment. The normally staid Head Girl persona had dropped away. "Hermione!" she said at last, beginning to laugh, "I can't believe you just said that. And about my brother, too. There are details I don't want to know about my family members, thank you very much!"
"Oh, well, then I guess I won't be giving you any advice then."
"You damned well better!"
*
Harry stared at the blank parchment in front of him, wracking his brains for inspiration. Dear Ginny, he wrote and then stopped. No, that sounded too formal. He scratched that out and tried again. Hi Ginny! Too casual. He started over. Ginny… Then he stopped and stared some more.
Tomorrow would mark a week since Ginny had left for school, and he still hadn't written to her yet. His problem was he had no idea what to say to her. He'd tried over the past few days, tried what seemed like a hundred times to write to her. If only he could get started, he thought, it would all come to him. But it never did. On a few occasions he'd managed a sentence or two, but something was always wrong with it.
He'd received her letter on Wednesday morning. It had come with the regular owl post, addressed to the Burrow, but Harry had recognised the writing and immediately known it was for him. And it was huge. He'd never seen such a long letter in his life. And if he was perfectly honest with himself, it intimidated him. Did Ginny expect him to write the same sort of thing back to her?
He'd realised right away that one of the reasons she'd written so much was to kill the time it took to reach Hogwarts. She'd said at the beginning that she had just boarded the train and didn't feel like talking to anyone. And then when she'd closed she'd mentioned that they'd just arrived in Hogsmeade. That part of the letter wasn't the problem.
It was everything she'd written in between. And it wasn't as if he minded terribly the things she'd had to say. No, there were parts he'd read so often he'd memorised them by now. He'd been carrying the letter around with him as one of the few links he had left to her. It went along with the talisman that he still wore, and the dragon she'd given him for his birthday, which was lying on his pillow at the moment. It was just that he was afraid he wouldn't be able to respond in kind. He bit his lip in frustration and made himself put something down on the page.
Ginny, it's nice to hear from you. I hope your first day went all right. Is Snape still a git? Who have they hired for Defence this year? Things are OK here. Your dad seemed better today. Love, Harry
He immediately crumpled up the sheet of parchment. He could just imagine her reply: "Dear Harry, I'm glad things are going so well for you. I know how much thought and time you put into that letter. Love, Ginny." That bit about her dad wasn't even completely true. He'd got the impression that Mrs Weasley was very worried about her husband, although she was taking pains to hide it.
He had to get this done and soon. His lunch hour was ticking away. What he ought to write was his feelings. That's what she'd written, after all. But there was something daunting about putting them down in ink. It was more permanent somehow. He could just about say some of what he felt for Ginny, but he didn't know if he was ready to write it.
He decided to get out her letter for inspiration. Unfolding the parchment, he began to reread what to him was the most incomprehensible part: "My heart hurts to think that we have to be apart. It hurts. Physically. I can put my fist over the very spot. It's as if part of me has been torn away, and yet I know I'm my own person. I make my own decisions, I do what I want, and yet I'm not whole without you." As often as he'd read that over to himself, he still had trouble bending his mind around it. How was he worth even a small part of what she was? Especially now…
He bit his lip and started again. He would get this done.
Dear Ginny,
First let me say, I'm sorry it's taken me this long to write back to you. Please don't think I was too busy or didn't have time to write (although things are still hectic at the Ministry at the moment), because honestly you are all I thought about. I've been trying to write back to you ever since I got your letter, but it's difficult. I can't reply to your letter the way I want to. Nothing I ever wrote could ever be good enough. Believe me, I've been trying. I've crumpled up enough parchment to hide behind.
"I hope that's Ministry business you're working on there, Potter."
Harry scrambled to hide the parchment, not because it wasn't actually Ministry business, but because his letter to Ginny wasn't any of St John's affair. "It's my lunch hour. I was under the impression I could do what I wanted with my time."
"Your lunch hour is over. Just because you have a famous name doesn't mean everyone is going to fawn all over you."
Harry really wanted to reply with something nasty this time. St John had a talent for making remarks like this when no one else was around to hear it. Whenever one of the other solicitors was within earshot, he was all sweetness and light towards Harry, but Harry didn't think the others were really fooled by his act.
He was saved by having to answer by the sound of someone coming into the office. Looking up, he realised it was more than one person. His godfather was standing at the counter surrounded by a guard of Aurors. Once again, Sirius looked like he had when he'd was newly escaped from Azkaban, although his hair wasn't quite as long. It was matted, though, and his face was drawn. His eyes were focused, glittering with a desire for freedom.
Harry's stomach dropped to the floor, and he suddenly felt cold. After all these years as a fugitive, he'd finally been caught. As a member of the Order, Sirius had benefited from a certain level of protection due to Dumbledore's influence. But Dumbledore was dead now. And Sirius had been caught in Wormtail's stead. Again. Harry felt as if he was about to be sick.
He got to his feet shakily. "Sirius, is there anything I can do?"
"Sirius?" said St John. "On first name basis with wanted criminals now, are we?"
Harry ignored St John and the consequences of what he'd just revealed for the moment. All he cared about was his godfather. Sirius stared, wide-eyed, at Harry for a few seconds before saying, "No, Harry, everything's all right. I've caught him." The relief was evident in his tone.
Harry approached his godfather, but the Aurors seemed to crowd around him like a human shield. "If everything's all right, then why the guard?"
"Technically I haven't been pardoned yet. I'm here to work that out."
"You'll be here to see Hill, then."
"Yes."
Harry reached over to hold open the swinging door in the counter. "It's through here." The phalanx of Aurors moved as a body towards the opening. "You don't have to all come in with him, do you?" Harry asked, his voice rising in irritation. "He's hardly going to do anything. He's innocent and he's here to prove it."
"Move aside," grumbled one of the Aurors. "Don't interfere in official Ministry business. This is none of your affair."
"He's my godfather! Of course it's my affair!" Harry was fairly shouting now.
"What's going on here?" Hill had emerged from his office, no doubt attracted by the noise. Then he spotted Sirius and stopped short. "Sirius Black!"
"Mr Hill, Sirius is my godfather, and he's innocent," Harry interjected before anyone else could respond. "He can prove it to you, if you'd let him. You can, can't you?" Harry asked his godfather. Sirius nodded. "He doesn't need all these Aurors guarding him."
"It's standard procedure, Harry," said Hill calmly.
"I can vouch for him, Mr Hill. He isn't going to do anything. Use one of those Sincerity Charms on him and ask him!"
"Yes, that's an excellent idea. Move aside, please," Hill added to the Aurors as he drew his wand and trained it on Sirius. "Now, are you here with evidence of your innocence?"
"I am," replied Sirius.
Hill nodded. "All right," he said to the Aurors, "I'm satisfied. You can all go back to your department." The Aurors looked put out to a man, but they obeyed, breaking ranks and allowing Sirius to pass. "Harry, perhaps you should join us. St John can fill in for you while we hear your godfather's story. St John, can you please pull all files relevant to the Black case?"
St John did not look happy with this turn of events, but he could hardly say anything in protest. Harry grinned to himself as he followed Sirius into Hill's office.
A/N: A lot of readers were wondering what the unfortunate occurrence in the last chapter was. It was meant to be Arthur breaking his leg, but those author's notes were also a bit of a joke, as well as a tribute to Lemony Snicket.
Yes, there is an Arthur/Molly back-story being hinted at here. I don't think I'm going to be able to tell it in the context of this story, but I may write it as a separate fic, once I've finished this one.
Once again I need to thank Marian for all her help and ideas in this chapter. She's writing this story just as much as I am, as well as providing lots of support and laughs. Thanks also goes to Paula and Monique for their help and suggestions. Thanks to everyone for your reviews and continued support.
Chapter 11