I Saw My Lady Weep

Chapter 18: And I Can't Handle This...

With a cry of terror, Harry jerked awake suddenly, skittering backward on his hands and knees, off of the mattress and onto the floor. He sat back on his haunches, confused for a moment, as if wondering what had happened to the nightmare images that had filled his head not moments before. It occurred to him that the last thing he knew for sure was that he was sitting with his back to a wall in the downstairs parlor. And he was fully clothed.

Ginny doesn't want to marry me, he thought immediately.

Harry rubbed his eyes to stop the throbbing in his head and disentangled himself from the bedclothes that had followed him onto the floor. He blanched at the taste in his mouth. Some spectacularly foul beast had climbed down his throat as he slept and died, obviously. He wagged his tongue in and out of his mouth several times, supposedly in the belief that it might help. It didn't.

Ginny doesn't want to marry me. The thought came again, unbidden.

Groggily, he stumbled out of the bedroom and into the bathroom across the hall. The movement caused the throbbing in his head to increase. He did his best to swish and spit with water from the sink, but didn't have a toothbrush... it was back at the Burrow and right now he was going to avoid that place like the plague.

Ginny doesn't want to marry me. It echoed in his head, over and over.

Harry stumbled down the stairs to see Kreacher in the front hall, a broom already in his hands. The elf has already removed all the detritus from the floor and had apparently scrubbed the walls clean. When he saw Harry, Kreacher bowed low. "And how is Master Harry feeling this morning?"

I bloody well hate the entire world, how do you think I feel? Ginny doesn't want to marry me. He wanted to shout at the insensitive little beast, but he knew it wasn't Kreacher's fault.

"Master Harry is feeling like he was honked up by a sick hippogriff, is how Master Harry is feeling. On top of it, I had a case of the screaming habadabs this morning. Woke up affright." Harry stretched and yawned. "Please tell me there's something resembling tea in this house."

Ginny doesn't want to marry me. The memory of her handing the ring back wouldn't leave his conscious thought.

"Kreacher cannot tell you that, Master, for it would be a lie."

Harry stared a Kreacher for a moment. He blinked several times, trying to dislodge the cement around their edges. "Is there anything edible in the house at all?" Harry asked

Ginny doesn't want to marry me because she blames me. It was an easy step to go from the one thought to the next.

Kreacher thought about it. "There is a nest of rats in the wine cellar... you would find those technically edible, Master Harry... but there hasn't been something you would regularly consider edible since last night, when you finished the last bottle of Ogden's."

"Right... Right..." Harry stretched again and idly scratched himself. "I think I'll get a shower. Then I think a trip to the grocer." He yawned impressively, still trying to climb out of the nasty effects brought on by a combination of a hangover and a nightmare. "And then some breakfast. What do you think?"

She blames me for Fred. And because she blames me, she doesn't want anything to do with me. He could feel himself slipping into a depression. It felt odd, on an intellectual level, to be conscious of sliding down into a black emotional hole. Usually it just happened.

Kreacher looked confused. Apparently the question surprised him.

"It was a rhetorical question, Kreacher. Don't worry about it."

The house-elf smiled thinly. "Very good, Master Harry." The house-elf turned back to his labors as Harry struggled up the stairs. He reached the first landing and, hopping on one foot, disposed of his boxers. My house... I'll wander around naked if I want, he thought as he stepped into the bathroom and started the shower. Bloody hell the water's cold! Ginny doesn't love me anymore...

XxxxxxX

With a loud crack, Ginny and Hermione appeared from nowhere in the densely wooded park across the street from Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Ginny let go of Hermione's arm and looked around, making sure no one had spotted their appearance. She turned and looked at Hermione, then giggled.

Hermione tried her best to keep a straight face, but it was a losing battle. They both laughed. "Well how was I supposed to know she was his great-granddaughter?" Hermione asked no one in particular. "I mean, it's not like I ever knew Old Tom's last name was Abbott, now did I? It's always just been 'Old Tom', hasn't it? He's been there forever..."

"Yes, well... perhaps when you asked Hannah why she was waitressing you shouldn't have used the phrase 'wasting your life at this dead end job'... I think she took offense at that." Ginny smirked. "Let's go see if Harry's here."

"He's got to be here. The process of elimination alone says he will be here." Hermione paused before crossing the street, looking both ways for traffic. Ginny simply strode out into the middle of the road. "Ginny... If you keep doing that you're going to get hit by a motorcar and killed."

"Keep doing what?" Still not looking, Ginny crossed the street to Number 12 and knocked. The enormous knocker, like almost every other decoration in this house, was shaped like a giant serpent. "I hope he's here."

"You know... now that I think about it rushing out like that probably wasn't the best idea. We didn't even leave a note for everyone. I mean, it was your birthday party..." Hermione said, hesitantly.

No one had answered the door yet. Ginny knocked again, harder this time. "Yeah, last night... this morning is just another day."

"Ginny..."

"Hermione, look... They have cake, right? So they'll be fine." Ginny shrugged. "And we'll be back before they know we're gone, and will bring Harry back with us. So no worries..."

Ginny reached to knock again when Hermione said "I just wished I knew where Ron was. He wasn't there when we left. I checked."

"Probably went after George..." Ginny began as the door finally opened. She turned her winning smile to the door... but no one was there.

"Ah... it's the blood-traitor and Master Harry's Mudblood friend...." Kreacher said, sotto voce. He cleared his throat and spoke again, louder. "May Kreacher assist you?"

Surprised, Ginny and Hermione lowered their gazes. Kreacher stood in the open doorway. "Kreacher! Good morning! Remember me? Hermione Granger?" Hermione said. "

"Kreacher remembers." The house-elf gave the girls his smallest, most-impatient-yet-still-minimally-polite smile.

"Kreacher, we're looking for Harry... Is he here?" Hermione asked.

"I am sorry, but Master Harry is out at the moment. I'm sure he will be happy to see you when he returns. He shouldn't be gone for more than another hour or two. Good day to you both." He closed the door in their faces.

"He's mellowed some, I see," Ginny observed. Undeterred, the grabbed the knocker and rapped it against the door once more.

The door creaked open again. "Kreacher is sorry... Was there something else?"

"I really need to talk to Harry, Kreacher." Ginny knelt to the elf's eye level. "I really, really need to talk to him. I need to tell him... Can you tell me where he is, Kreacher?"

"He went to the grocers, Mistress." Kreacher's haughty smile slipped, and his eyes widened in shock. To Ginny it looked like he was honestly struggling with something. Almost unwillingly, he added "To refill the pantry."

"Do you know which grocers, Kreacher?" Ginny looked up at Hermione. "If its close, we can just go..."

Hermione nodded. She had an odd look in her eye.

"No, Mistress... Kreacher was not told to which grocer Master Harry was going. He was ordered to help repair the house after what was done by the Death Eaters and that is all."

Ginny stood. "Well... I guess we could wait here until he got back."

Hermione looked up one end of the road, then down the other. She glanced at Kreacher and that odd look returning. "Perhaps we can wait inside. Go ahead and ask him. Or better yet, just tell him we're going to wait inside."

"Tell him... Hermione, what are you talking about?" Ginny was confused. She stared at Hermione for several seconds. "Fine... Fine..." she waved her hands dismissively. Ginny turned to Kreacher and knelt once more. "Kreacher, we're going to wait inside for Harry. As I said, it's important that I speak to him."

Ginny expected the house-elf, who even at his best was less than cordial to her, to argue and resist. Instead, he stood aside and waved them inside. "Of course, Mistress."

"Thanks, Kreacher." Ginny smiled at the elf and stepped through the door with Hermione on her heels. They stopped in the front hall, wondering at how empty it looked without the serpent chandelier or the elf-heads, or Mrs. Black's portrait. "What happened in here?"

"All the furniture... the portrait... Kreacher?" Hermione asked.

"The foul servants of the Dark Lord desecrated the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. They destroyed nearly everything, stole what they could, and even burned the portrait of my poor dear mistress," Kreacher answered at once. "Master Harry and I have begun repairs and cleaning in anticipation of his living here full time."

"He... He said he was moving back here?" Ginny and Hermione walked into the parlor, which still had overturned and broken furniture piled hither and yon, but no longer had grime and dust everywhere. "He didn't say anything about that."

"If you'll excuse me for saying so, Mistress, I believe Master came to the decision last night, while he was drinking his dinner." Kreacher stepped past them, carefully. "If you'll excuse me, Mistress, I'll return to my duties. There is much to do yet."

"We can help, Kreacher," Hermione said. She looked at Ginny. "It'll give us something to do while we wait."

Kreacher hesitated briefly. "As Mistress' friend desires," he croaked.

Ginny shrugged and took her wand out of her pocket. "Sure. Let's get these couches and chairs turned back over and see if any of them are worth saving."

Hermione nodded and withdrew her own wand. "By the way... Kreacher... Why are you calling Ginny 'mistress', all of a sudden?"

XxxxxxX

"Thirty-nine. Forty. Forty-one. Forty-two. There you go, Mister Abruthnot." Harry put the money in the shopkeeper's hand. "Now, are you sure there's no extra charge for delivery?" He looked over the grocer's shoulder, watching the man's employees pack his purchases in boxes and bags.

August Abruthnot smiled. "No sir, Mister Potter, sir. It's all part of the service. And I'd right say I'd waive the cost for you in any case, seein' it's you an' all. Now will you be taking delivery yourself?"

Harry shook his head. "My house elf, Kreacher, will accept delivery."

"Very good sir, very good. I hope you find the Abruthnot Brothers acceptable and will come back next time you're in need of your victuals, sir." Abruthnot grinned, revealing a gap-toothed smile. He wrote something down on his sales pad. "We aim to please all our customers, so if there's ever something you need, you jus' ask."

"I'll do that." Harry smiled and shook the grocer's hand.

"So if there isn't anything else we can do, sir... I was wonderin'..." Abruthnot stammered nervously. "Would you mind, sir? Could I trouble you for an autograph?" The man held up a folded piece of parchment.

Harry opened the parchment up, revealing one of the wanted posters the Death Eaters had hung everywhere. UNDESIRABLE NUMBER ONE! He looked up at August Abruthnot with a confused look. The grocer looked sheepish for a moment. "Sorry, sir... it's the only picture of you I have, and it would mean the world to me. I supported you and the resistors during the war, sir. You can count on that! If it weren't for them damned Death Eaters threatenin' ta hex me, I'd never have hung that in my winder."

Harry chuckled. "For you, Mister Abruthnot, I'll do it. Just this once. If I can trouble you for your quill?" Harry took the feather and signed "To August, the Only Person I'd Ever Buy Groceries From! Your Friend, Harry Potter". Harry suspected that within moments of his leaving, this parchment would be framed and hanging in plain view behind the counter, but it was okay. The man was so friendly and so hero-struck that Harry couldn't help ignoring his irritation at the autograph request.

Harry shook Abruthnot's hand one more time, waved at the stock clerks loading his packages, and stepped out into Diagon Alley. He wandered, looking for some sort of furniture outlet, but didn't find one. Ah well, I'll try Hogsmeade.

Harry noted with some surprise that George hadn't actually opened the shop, despite words to the contrary. He stepped up and peered into the dimly lit shop and what he saw surprised him. Ron Weasley, wearing an apron, was sweeping up the dirt and trash. Harry knocked on the boards covering the broken front window, catching Ron's eye.

Ron looked up, smiling when he recognized Harry. He gave Harry a "come on in" motion with his hands and went back to sweeping.

"Cleaning up, I see. Where's George?" Harry looked around. The place looked like a storm had hit it. And what was that smell?

"George is indisposed. Look, Harry... I need you to do something for me..." Ron looked uncomfortable. "I need you to sign a writ or an order or something."

"A writ or a... Ron, what on the wide world are you talking about?" Harry was puzzled.

"I want to rehire Verity and maybe a couple of other people... get them in here cleaning and setting up before Hermione and I leave for Australia. I've only got the rest of today and tomorrow to get them started. But I don't really have the authority to hire people for the shop, do I? You're technically a partner, so you can technically hire people." Ron scratched the back of his head. "If you sign some sort of writ or something, you can give me authority to do all that."

Harry thought about it for a moment. "I'll do you one better. Got any money on you?"

"Money?" Ron looked confused. "I dunno... couple of Galleons, I guess."

Okay, give me what you have. Is there a notepad somewhere?" Harry hunted around the sales counter, finally coming up with a notepad. He took a color-changing pen out the display and wrote out Received from Ronald Weasley the sum of... "How much do you have Ron?" Harry counted it out... the sum of Three Galleons, two Sickles, and five Knuts, in exchange for a 20 percent share of ownership in Weasley Wizard Wheezes, previously owned by Harry Potter. Then he signed it. "Sign under my name, Ron."

Ron walked over and signed, then read the paper. "What? Harry... I didn't want you to do that."

"Call it an early wedding gift, Ron. This shop is almost a money-minting machine. If you get this shop up and running again, it will give you a nice little nest egg for you and Hermione to start a family." Harry held his hand out to Ron, and the two shook enthusiastically.

So... Um... I've been wondering since I walked in... Where's the doorknob?" Harry asked.

"Oh... I vanished it, so I guess it went wherever vanished objects go," Ron said, dumping the contents of his pan into the dustbin. Now standing close to Harry, Ron sniffed. "Are you wearing the same clothes you had on yesterday? And why do you smell like firewhisky?"

"Er... Yeah." Harry shuffled, a bit guiltily. "I spent the night at Grimmauld Place. I apparently spilled some on myself. No clean laundry." Harry smiled a bit weakly. It was a lie, but the best one he could come up with in an instant.

That stopped Ron in his tracks. "Any particular reason, Harry?"

Harry was very carefully examining the floor. "She... er... Ginny... she gave the ring back. Said George was right and that it was too soon." She doesn't want me anymore. The thought echoed in Harry's mind.

Ron threw the broom and the dustpan down. "Damn it! George was snackered! He didn't know what he was saying! I can't believe someone as headstrong as Ginny bought into that twaddle!"

"I don't think it was just George. I think she's still hurting and hasn't wanted to admit it." Harry shrugged, still not meeting Ron's eyes.

"And how are you taking this?" Ron eyed Harry carefully.

"It hurts. But if this is what she wants... I'll give her the time she asked for. Hopefully, when it's all over, she'll take the ring back." Harry patted his pants pocket, and then froze. A bit frantically, he stuffed his hand into it. He did the same to his other pants pockets, then the back pockets.

Ron's eyes widened. "Harry... You lost the ring, didn't you?"

"I don't... It's got to be back at Grimmauld Place! Ron, I've got to go, now. Harry ran out the door and within moments had disappeared into nothing.

XxxxxxX

Harry rushed through the door and into the house at Grimmauld Place. He quickly searched the floor in the front hall, but it had already been cleaned and nothing was there. "Kreacher! KREACHER! I need your help finding..."

He went into the front parlor and stopped dead in his tracks. Hermione and Ginny stood on short step-ladders, each looking at him curiously. They had dirty cloths in their hands and had apparently been busily wiping down the walls when he came storming in at the top of his lungs.

"Er... Hello." Harry could only stare at Ginny. She had captured him the moment he entered the room. But she doesn't want you anymore. The traitor's voice. "What are you doing here?"

With a pop, Kreacher appeared out of thin air. He was about to speak when Ginny waved him quiet. Harry never noticed.

Hermione looked at Ginny, who was just as enraptured with Harry. "We came looking... and Kreacher let us in, and we decided to assist cleaning up. He said you'd be back soon." Hermione smiled at him. "So, Harry... What did you need finding?"

"Well... This is really embarrassing, but I got a bit... It doesn't matter." Harry shook his head grimly. "But I think I dropped Gin... I mean my mother's ring. It's got to be in the house, and I was hoping to get Kreacher helping me to look."

Ginny stepped down from her ladder and very carefully pulled the glove from her left hand. She held her hand up, letting him see that the ring was right where Harry had put it. "You didn't lose it. I had it."

"You're wearing..." She loves you, idiot... She's not throwing you away. A completely different voice... the voice of his Father and Sirius and Moody and Arthur and Remus, the hero's voice; it spoke to him this time. She wasn't ever going to. "But I thought you wanted some time to...

"Yeah," said Ginny quietly. "I thought I wanted some time too... To, you know... Sort out my feelings about everything that was happening, but..."

"What do you mean? What was happening?"

"Everything. The war... Fred's death... our engagement... everything." Ginny smiled.

Harry felt like he could barely breathe. "And?"

She moved closer to him, until they were almost touching. "Harry..." she whispered.

He found his answer in her eyes and was able to breathe again.