Sunday, Bloody Sunday

Chapter Seventeen – Frozen Smiles

"Broken windows and empty hallways

A pale lit moon in the sky streaked with grey

Human kindness is overflowing

And I think it’s gonna rain today."

-Bette Midler, "I Think It’s Going to Rain Today"

Thursday, November 6, 2003

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, sore from the unfamiliar feel of a heavier style of glasses. He was near blind without them, but his feet knew the way to the infirmary better than anyone but Madame Pomfrey. He wondered idly how many times he’d slept over in the same little bed halfway down the row. Sometimes Ron or Hermione was there recovering beside him, or sometimes he was alone. However, each memory of the infirmary had another memory connected – one of pain, hurt, and the evil named Tom Riddle, or Lord Voldemort.

Thunder crashed from somewhere outside and Harry let out a sigh, pushing visions of his wife’s blank, lifeless eyes from his mind. He kept barreling down the halls, speeding up as he grew closer to his goal, the halls an unfocused blur. His glasses were clean by now, but he kept rubbing his handkerchief over them, trying to clean away more than just the dust of the day. Finally, the infirmary was before him, giving him new reason to hide the echoes of her sightless brown eyes away. "Mrs. Weasley?" he called out as he entered, slipping his glasses back onto his face as he realized he couldn’t actually recognize the vague orange-topped blob without them. "I was wondering if -" All thoughts of asking Molly for help with research fled from his mind as he set eyes on the woman perching at the edge of a white-sheeted bed.

Ginny turned slowly to face him, eyes suddenly widening and skin paling in shock. She rose slowly, shaking her head. "H-harry?"

Four years seemed to melt away in a single moment, and Harry found himself crossing the room to grab her shoulders and keep her from backing away. "It’s me, Gin. God, when Professor McGonagall said you’d been kidnapped, I thought HE’D taken you! Are you all right? It wasn’t Voldemort, was it?"

"What? I was fine, no one kidnapped me. I was at work, and there was a mob out front that the Death Eaters were using to try to hurt Dad, but Malfoy was there waiting and he took me into hiding until last night." Ginny shook her head sharply, shoving Harry away. "I’m hardly the one who should be answering questions here! It’s been four bloody years – what the HELL got into you!?"

Harry held up his hands in what he hoped was a gesture of surrender. He completely forgot the shining gold band on the third finger of his left hand, or the response Ginny would probably show when she became aware of it. He pressed on. "I’m sorry I left, Gin, but there were things I needed to do. Things I needed to realize about myself. Albus was my Secret Keeper – he sent me to New York City, he got me my first job with a law firm there. I finally got the chance to be a regular guy, and it was something I needed."

"A regular guy, hmm? At the expense of how many hundreds of lives? Bill died only a few weeks after you disappeared! Ron ran off to find you and left the whole family behind, Penny got caught in a terrorist attack on the London Tube and sent Percy off hating Muggles! Neville’s murdered, Fred’s murdered! Angelina and Katie are dead, Colin’s dead! Merlin’s Beard, Harry, you left us all! For what? To go play Muggle! And look at that – looks like you did a fine old job of it, MARRIED! So much for all the things you promised me!" Ginny started backing up stopping only as she bumped into an infirmary cot, eyes fixed the whole time on the glint of gold on Harry’s hand.

"Ginny, I was worthless to the wizarding world as I was – lost and hurt, an orphan without a home to go to, and without Sirius to show me which way was up. I fell in love, really in love, with a wonderful woman in New York. I’m sorry I left like I did, but meeting Rachel gave me a purpose again, and it was just what I needed -"

Her voice reached near hysteria. "You think you can barge right back in here and find everything the way you left it, then? Well newsflash, Harry James Potter! McGonagall might be glad to have the hero back, and Ron’s probably ecstatic to see you again, but I’m sick to death of making excuses for you! Go on outside and announce to the world that famous Harry Potter is back to save the day! I swear, you’ll have a bigger mob waiting to bust your ass than ANYTHING the bloody Death Eaters could put together!"

"Ginny?" A smooth, and oddly familiar, drawl came from the door. Afraid of angering her any further, Harry didn’t turn from Ginny, keeping his hands up in the same non-threatening position. The voice went on, a bit more forcefully, "Are you alright? Is this guy trying to pull something?"

She started visibly as the voice addressed her, and Harry saw some sort of confusion cross her face before she pointed at him accusingly. "Yeah, I’ll say he’s trying to pull something! Don’t recognize him, do you?" With three steps forward, Ginny grabbed his arm and yanked him to face the man behind the voice. "Look who’s back in Wizarding Britain, Draco! It’s Harry Bloody Potter back to save the day!"

And sure enough, Harry’s childhood enemy stood in the doorway, eternal sneer plastered to his face. "Well, if it isn’t your dear ex. When I heard there was going to be an attack across the pond, I was hoping you might feel able to grace us all with your presence. What’s it been, Potty, four years? Five? You look like shit!"

"Still trading insults for lack of brains, Malfoy? It’s too bad working for Voldemort turned out to be a mess for you – I would’ve loved to curse your face in," Harry spat, ignoring how juvenile he felt, as well as the look of sheer disgust on Ginny’s face.

Malfoy’s sneer became a full-fledged glare of hate, icy enough to chill Harry to his core. "Give me one reason not to smash your jaw, Potter," he hissed, taking a step closer.

Before Ginny had a chance to hold him back or cheer him on – Harry wasn’t sure what she’d do, actually – he took a step back and shook his head. "No need. George already bloodied my nose up."

"Lucky for you, then. Seems George is just as smart as Fred proved himself to be." And just as abruptly as Malfoy had entered, he started ignoring Harry, turning to put a comforting hand on Ginny’s shoulder. Harry gaped. "Are you alright, Ginny? He didn’t try anything?"

She shook her head lightly. "I can take care of myself, really. But he’s married to some Muggle tart anyway." Before Harry could cry out his anger on Rachel’s behalf, Ginny turned to him. "You’re not wanted here, Harry. I’ve spent enough of my time covering your ass. Go back to your wife. Go be a lawyer in bloody America and leave me the hell alone!" With a tight smile to Malfoy and a dark glare in Harry’s direction, she stormed out of the infirmary.

"Don’t bloody touch her, you hear, Potter?" Malfoy hissed, taking a backward step toward the door. "Do so much as look at her wrong, and I’ll make you wish you’d never heard of magic."

It was too late for that, Harry mused silently as his enemy disappeared from the room as well. He’d started wishing that long ago.

~

Hermione buried her face in her hands and sighed deeply. In three hours of searching her private library, not a single reference to Dumbledore’s spell had been found. She hoped that Harry’s search in the main school library had turned up more – though knowing Albus, she was sure the spell came from some incredibly obscure document now hidden in the room full of belongings he’d accumulated in over a hundred and fifty years of life. There had to be a way to change it so that one other than Harry could cast it. If none was found, it would be long months before he was magically ready to cast such a powerful curse – long months during which dozens of people would probably die.

She set aside her book as a knock sounded on the door of her chambers. "Come right in, it’s not locked!" she called, tidying up her stacks of books as best she could.

"It’s just me," George’s voice replied. "You don’t have to clean up. Fred’s room was always twice this bad."

"Hi, George," she murmured, beckoning him inside. After he’d taken her invitation and shut the door behind himself, she continued. "Something wrong? You didn’t get in too much trouble for punching Harry, did you?"

He shook his head, keeping both hands behind his back. "Just got a dressing down from Snape. Well, that and his demand as to why I didn’t do more damage. Sorry I didn’t tell you at breakfast after it happened."

"No problem, then. Your hair is all wet... what brings you down the hall to see me?" The cheeky grin that crossed his face was enough to warn Hermione of some sort of surprise – hopefully nothing that would prove too harmful or embarrassing.

"A purely social call," George answered, sweeping over to stand beside her as she sat on the couch. With a flourish, he brought his hands from behind his back to present two champagne glasses and a bottle of Chateau Vetinari. Though not a wine expert by any means, Hermione was well aware of the quality of a Vetinari. "I bring a peace offering, and a shoulder to cry on, so long as I can have one in return."

Hermione knocked the pile of books from beside her and gestured broadly. "Then my ratty old couch is yours. Where on earth did you go to get Vetinari? I thought they only sold it in London!"

"I walked down to Hogsmeade and they happened to have a bottle at the little wine shop down from Zonko’s. My lucky day, I guess!" With a broad grin, George set the glasses on the table, popped the cork, and poured more than enough champagne into each glass.

"Oooh, champagne... I haven’t had any since this past New Years. You should’ve been here then! Albus had too much to drink, old coot, though he never does hold his alcohol well. He dragged Poppy onto the dance floor at the staff party and started swing dancing with her – and he was doing just fine until he tripped over his own two feet and landed right on his bum, and knocked Severus over in the process -" Hermione stopped abruptly and snatched the glass from the table before her, taking a long drink. "We should do a toast. You and me. To Albus and Fred, who never lived to see the end of the war. To Bill and Neville, Angelina and Katie, gone but never forgotten. And for the seven classmates of mine who are still missing tonight, since Ginny and Draco and Morag MacDougal showed their faces."

"A toast," George murmured in agreement, setting aside the champagne bottle for his own glass. "To everyone who should be here, but is no longer, because of Voldemort’s evil." They clinked glasses and drained them, setting Hermione to filling them once more.

She gave a short laugh. "You’re trying to get me drunk, aren’t you."

"A point to Gryffindor!" George exclaimed, holding his newly refilled glass high. "I think that just this once, it’s time to set aside your inhibitions and let it out. Now, turning into a drunkard, like I was trying to do – that’s certainly not what I’m trying to do to you. But I propose another toast – to one night of drowning our sorrows, in hopes that tomorrow brings a brighter day."

"To a brighter day," Hermione gave an empty smile, repeating the ceremony of moments earlier. When George filled their glasses for a third time, she let out another laugh. "Honestly, George, it won’t be hard to get me drunk. I’m a terrible lightweight."

"Good," George grinned back, kicking his feet up on the table and reaching over to ruffle her hair. "Now, then, I might not be a girly gossip parner like Ginny – nor am I gay, so I’ll be a terrible substitute – but go ahead and talk about whatever you want. And I’ll not let it get out to the students that you got pissed either."

Hermione slumped in her seat as well, already feeling a bit of euphoria from the bubbles – though most of that, she thought, was probably just in her head. "Albus went off and left us in a terrible bind, didn’t he. Harry can’t do a bit of magic – he tried to use a simple floatation charm on his trunk this morning, and couldn’t even lift it a centimeter. He can get his wand to spark, but it ends right about there. How is he supposed to save the world? It’ll take months to get him practiced back to full strength, months!"

George tried to hide his disappointment at Hermione’s choice of topic, but didn’t manage it well. His face fell visibly. "I’m sure Potter will manage to save the day like always. Never fear, the Boy Wonder is here, and all that."

Pursing her lips, she peered at her glass and then at George before shifting the conversation entirely. "Did you really walk all the way to Hogsmeade in the rain and thunder just to get us a bottle of champagne?"

"Yeah." As she watched, the tips of his ears turned red.

Hermione finished off her third glass and set it down. "George, are you jealous?"

"What?" Seemingly startled, George set his glass to the side. "Jealous of what?"

"Of whom, rather. Are you jealous of Harry?" Though the question was straightforward, she was well aware of the response she’d probably get – no doubt the same one Ron would give in the situation. "Don’t brush it off, either. Since the moment he walked back into Hogwarts, he’s been treated like a hero, which he isn’t. He’s hurt, he’s lonely, but what he did wasn’t heroic at all. Are you jealous of him, despite all of it?"

George gaped for a moment before shrugging lightly. "I’m not jealous of the fame. Hell, I always let Fred stand in the spotlight. He was the dominant twin, I never really wanted to be the one in charge of the schemes. But yes, I’m fairly jealous of Harry. Ever since he showed back up, you’ve spent all your time talking to him and going giggly over his son, and I’ll gladly admit that we never spent much time together before all the shit hit the fan... but yeah, I’m jealous that Harry’s got all of your attention now. It was nice, having you there to help after Fred was... gone like that."

"I had no idea," Hermione murmured, giving a small sigh. "You didn’t have to punch Harry to get my attention, you know. You could’ve just... showed up with a bottle of wine."

With a laugh of his own, George grinned. "Punching Harry was more satisfying than you can imagine. I’ll blame it on the testosterone if you’d like. However, I’ll remember that. Bring a bottle of wine, who’d think of such an odd idea as that!" He sat up and grabbed the champagne from the floor, filling Hermione’s cup on the table and topping off his own. "I don’t think I’m going to get used to having the git back here. Four years is a bloody long time, especially when he spent it in the middle of a war over in Muggle America. What happened there would be enough to change any bloke."

Hermione nodded. "He’s not the same. But, he was one of my best friends for seven years. I’m not going to abandon him to fate after all the three of us went through. Or Ron, even though he’s a bloody git."

"Ah! Such language, Professor Granger!" At Hermione’s tipsy giggle, George winked rakishly. "Couldn’t have labeled him better myself, though. He’s a complete and utter bastard for leaving you like that." To emphasize his point, George finished off his glass.

Hermione followed in suit, connections coming despite the alcohol slowly fogging her brain. "What do you want, George? If you could have anything in the world?"

"If you’re expecting an answer like ‘world peace’ or ‘to bring Fred back,’ I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed." George stared blankly at his empty champagne glass, rolling the stem between his fingers. "While I would love to have Fred back... one of my Auror friends has this Hebrew saying she got from her mum. L’Chaim, to life. That’s what I want more than anything. To seize the moment and just live. I’ve not been doing enough of that lately."

"I’ll toast that. To life." Hermione leaned forward and reached across George for the half-empty bottle of champagne.

George stopped her halfway, grabbing her shoulders lightly. At her questioning look, he clarified. "I want to live again, Hermione." And he leaned forward, and brushed his lips against hers.

Hermione was surprised more by her own response than the embrace she’d been anticipating since the unveiling of the bottle. She dropped her empty glass on the couch and wrapped her arms around his neck, keeping him from escaping the kiss she returned much more passionately than the one, which spawned it.

She lost track of time, aware only of the lips caressing hers, the beat of his heart as his arms wrapped around her and pulled her body to his, and the excitement speeding her breath. George pulled away, moving back just far enough to meet her eyes. "What do you want, Hermione?" he echoed, running his fingers along her cheekbone.

"To live," she murmured back, pressing eagerly into his embrace. The sound of the rain pounding on the windows became the only sound audible.