If Paths Diverge

Chapter 17

Harry picked up his teacup, fingers trembling enough to make the porcelain clink against the saucer, and immediately let it go. Hermione was watching him closely, had been doing so since he'd let them in ten minutes ago. He knew she could read him well and he forced himself to work harder at nonchalance. The trembling he could pass off as his weak health, but he had to try harder to meet her gaze and actually listen to what they were saying.

It would not help to be worrying about the man who was currently hiding in his bedroom— or fuck, knowing Voldemort, he was more likely to be standing right behind his chair. Harry froze and concentrated on whether he could detect any movement in his blind spots. He hated blind spots.

"Shove over," Ginny said suddenly, with a kind smile and Harry almost jumped.

His heart was thundering against his chest.

Jesus, he was a goddamn Auror. Since when was he this useless?

Since I invited the bloody Dark Lord to live with me and then had my Muggle-born friend, her blood traitor husband, and my fiancée over for tea.

"No room here, Gin, sorry," Harry said, returning her smile and absolutely refusing to give Voldemort a reason to kill her.

Harry was sitting in an armchair, which was only built for one and he was not about to let Ginny sit on his lap or even touch him if he could help it.

Ginny frowned and gave him a questioning look, but eventually she retreated to sit on the sofa with her brother and Hermione. Again, that seemed to garner him another searching look from Hermione, but Harry ignored it. He was pulsing with adrenaline, knowing how tenuous a grasp he had on their lives right now. What danger he had placed them in.

Voldemort was likely in this room, silent and invisible. Watching. Waiting for an opportunity to kill his friends and justify it by citing Harry's slow reflexes.

"How're you feeling, mate?" Ron asked, leaning back and holding his bottle of beer against his leg.

"You're looking much better," Hermione said, her eyes slightly narrowed.

"Yeah," Harry answered, trying for a weary but resolute smile. "I'm feeling better. Not perfect, but being home has seemed to make all the difference."

"You're being an idiot, not letting me stay with you while you're recovering, Harry," Ginny said, sounding both hurt and accusatory. "You're really too stubborn for your own good. I can even stay only during the day and then leave you while you sleep, if you want."

Harry was trying not to think about what Voldemort thought of that proposition.

"That's really nice, thank you for the offer," Harry said. "It means a lot. But, it's unnecessary. I'm okay."

"You're not. I was at the hospital, remember? You got hit with the Killing Curse days ago. You need help."

"No. I'm fine, really. I don't want your help."

He couldn't be any clearer without hurting her feelings, but if she didn't stop arguing, Voldemort was sure to step in.

"Don't be stupid, I don't mind—"

"Leave it, Ginny," Ron cut in, looking uncomfortable, but firm. "He said no."

Ginny stared at Ron, shocked, but after a few seconds, she sat back and cradled her teacup against her stomach, sullenly.

They were silent for a few moments and Harry tried again to listen for any sounds of breathing or movement behind him.

"Luna asked me to say hello to you," Ron said, giving Harry a small smirk. "She was quite upset when you were hurt. Wanted me to warn you about Wrackspurts drifting into your ear and making you mental or some rubbish."