Dedicated to the memory of my son, Zachary. I posted before that I was pregnant and at 15 weeks, we found out that he had passed. I was able to birth him peacefully at home and have a funeral and burial at our church. I dedicate the rest of this story to him. Do not feel like you have to console me, just please be patient if it takes me awhile to update.
This has been beta'd once but the beta I am working with and I are having issues sending material. Please be patient with my "dust" as we work out the kinks.
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I Choose You | ||||||
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Category: Post-DH/AB Characters:All Genres: Angst, Fluff, Romance Warnings: Mild Sexual Situations, Negative Alcohol Use Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 148 Summary: Ginny's 17th Birthday involved a lot of food, friends, and Firewhisky... now she and Harry awake to the aftermath. They have some tough choices to make. Hitcount: Story Total: 59639; Chapter Total: 11398 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: |
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They made their way slowly down the stairs, Harry clutching at her hand in a way that he had never done before and that told her plainly that he was as nervous as she was. The stairs creaky as they entered a tiny pub, with several small, well scrubbed wooden tables. A small man, with wispy gray hair was sitting at the one closest to the bar. He looked up and smiled pleasantly at them. “Good morning, then! How are the newlyweds?” “Uh, okay,” Harry said weakly. “We’re just going to head home now, I think.” “Fine, fine,” the gentleman said jovially. “You two Apparated last night, but you both look as though you’d rather floo home.” “Thanks,” Ginny whispered, completely unsure of what one would say in a situation like this. She headed for the fireplace, following the man. He took a pot from the mantle and held it out for Ginny. She took a pinch and turned to Harry. “See you at home then,” she said. “Good luck,” the man told her, “but I’m sure you two will do fine. Haven’t seen two so committed as you are in awhile.” Ginny wasn’t sure that her smile reached her eyes but it didn’t matter. She wanted to get home, and for once, she wanted her parents helping trying to make this right. Taking a deep breath, she threw the floo powder in and said “The Burrow.” ~*~ “Ginny!” Her mother’s shrill voice was enough to bring her hangover back. Ginny stumbled out of the fireplace, straight into her Mum’s arms. “Mum… I…” Ginny didn’t know what to say but she knew she was in for it. “I’ve been so worried! You and Harry just disappeared! Where-” With a small whoosh Harry flew out of the fireplace after her. He looked about as green as she felt. “Mum, can we sit down? I feel sick.” “Ginny!” She felt her mother lead her over to the table, and heard a chair scrape next to hers as Harry sat down. She looked up into her mother’s lined face and saw the hours of worry etched there. She glanced once at Harry and then back at her mother. “Mum, we, uh, we…” Harry cleared his throat and Ginny fell silent, not knowing what to say anyway. “Mrs. Weasley, we got married last night.” Molly Weasley stared at them hard, and the tirade that she was sure was imminent did not come. “What happened?” “We don’t know,” Ginny said in a small voice. “We woke up this morning in a pub in Scotland, at least,” she ran a hand over her face, trying to clear her foggy mind, “I think it was Scotland and we had rings…” her voice trailed off at the look on her mum’s face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I don’t know what happened or what made us do it.” Harry took her hand under the table. “We were drinking firewhiskey last night, to celebrate Ginny’s birthday and we must have had too much to drink.” Her mother stood and walked over to the stove, not looking at them. “I see. Let me call your father.” She walked quickly out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Ginny turned to Harry. “She didn’t yell.” “I noticed,” Harry said dryly. “I wish she had. It would have made me feel better.” Seconds later Mr. Weasley came striding into the kitchen, his face ashen. “Tell me you didn’t.” “Dad,” Ginny said plaintively. “What do we do now? Can I go back to school?” Her mother came in, went to the stove and started a pot boiling for tea. Mr. Weasley sat down heavily across from them. “I’m afraid you can’t. Married students aren’t allowed at Hogwarts. Another school might take you, if you want to go abroad, but-” “No!” Harry and Ginny said together. “So what do we do?” Ginny said again, hoping for a magic answer. Mr. Weasley thanked his wife as she handed him a cup of tea and then looked back at his daughter. “Now, you go pack your stuff unless you don’t want to move in with your husband.” ~*~ Harry had taken up residence at Number 12, Grimmauld Place right after his birthday despite the many protests of Mrs. Weasley. The funerals had been difficult, but after they had finished burying the dead from the final battle, Harry had felt like he needed to be on his own. He’d asked Ron if he wanted to move in as well, but Ron had ended up moving in, temporarily, with George to help manage the store. Harry cleared his throat nervously as he set a suitcase down in the upper hallway. Ginny, set another one down. “Which room do you want to use?” He asked, extremely nervously. Ginny stared down the hall and it seemed to elongate before her… weren’t she and Harry going to share a room? Hadn’t she had to quickly ask her mother about the birth control spell while Harry and her dad had been transporting her stuff over to London? Actually, her mother had been very relieved that they hadn’t already been together and said it was a blessing. Ginny couldn’t agree more. There was no way she was ready for a baby right now. “Uhm, which room are you sleeping in?” Harry shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve been sleeping in Sirius’ old room but if you’re not comfortable with that, then…” “No, that’s fine,” Ginny said quickly, hating the awkwardness that had sprung up between them. “Where’s Kreacher?” “Out,” Harry picked up her bag again and walked down the hall towards their room. “I told him what had happened and he’s gone out to get supplies for a special lunch.” “Right,” Ginny replied, following behind him. She set her bag down in the room and looked around at all of Sirius’ old things. She jumped when she felt Harry’s hands on her shoulders. Turning to face him, she saw the same worry that she felt reflected in his eyes and she smiled. “This is bloody weird.” “It is,” Harry agreed. “So what do we do?” Ginny sighed and put her arms around his waist. “We do what we think is right.” She didn’t know where that had come from, but she felt good saying it. He hesitated for a moment. “Are you ready to have-” She cut him off. “I don’t know.” “I don’t either,” he said in a small voice. “And I can’t believe I’m admitting that.” “Harry,” Ginny pulled back enough so that she could see his face. “I’m your wife. For better or worse, we’re in this together, right?” He nodded. “So if you can’t admit that to me, then who can you admit it to?” Harry grinned, his first genuine grin. “You’re right. So we’ll just be honest, then, yeah?” “Definitely.” Ginny agreed. “All right, let’s go down and see if Kreacher’s ready with lunch. We didn’t have breakfast and I’m starving.” ~*~ Molly Weasley had decreed that they would be back at the Burrow later that night for dinner and Ginny had a sinking suspicion that she was going to invite the entire family. She was right. When she and Harry arrived at 5:30 that evening, her brother Bill and his wife, Fleur, were sitting at the kitchen table, along with George, Ron and Hermione. Her mother was bustling around, fixing dinner. “Oh good, you two are here. We’re going to have a little celebration. Percy should be here soon, as will your father.” When she turned, Ginny could tell that she had been crying but she was hiding it well. Bill, George and Ron stood up, all three looking very serious. “Harry, we’re going out into the garden,” Bill said casually, much too casually. “Why don’t you join us.” Ginny shot her eldest brother a warning glance, and then looked at Harry. He seemed nervous but he nodded. He’d clearly been expecting this. “Okay,” he said, walking over to the kitchen door. Ginny caught Ron’s arm as he passed and hissed at him. “Don’t hurt, him, okay? This is just as much my fault as his.” Ron patted her shoulder. “We have no intention of hurting him.” George, who was standing behind Ron, piped in. “No, we just want to scare the piss out of him.” Ginny raised her eyebrow. “Good luck with that. Compared to you three Voldemort is just a fuzzy little kitten, right?” George gave her a weak smile and together, he and Ron left the kitchen. Ginny sat down in Ron’s vacated seat. Silence filled the kitchen for several long, tense moments. Finally Hermione blurted out, “This was my fault, wasn’t it?” Ginny shrugged. “I think it was our fault for drinking too much firewhiskey.” “Yes, but I told you about the rash of marriages and-” “You didn’t force us to Apparate to Scotland. We did that all on our own. I think- I can’t remember it all that well.” Ginny sighed and rested her head on the table. “I can’t believe I’m married. I’m not ready to be married.” “I looked you up today while I was at work,” Hermione said and Ginny looked up at her questioningly. “After I got an owl from Ron saying what had happened,” she explained. “I went down to the hall of records and looked and your marriage is there. Thankfully I don’t think anyone else has noticed.” Fleur, whom Ginny had been expecting to speak before now, piped in. “Congratulations, Ginny. This is ‘appy news.” “Thanks,” Ginny replied automatically. “Now,” Molly said, sitting down with a roll of parchment and a quill. “I’ve been waiting for your wedding for years, young lady.” Ginny slowly sat up and stared at her mother. She didn’t like the sound of where this was going. “I won’t throw a large party, as we did for Bill, but I do want to have a wedding and party for you and you will cooperate young lady; do I make myself clear?” She nodded. “But, Mum, we’re…” “No, no buts!” Her mother interrupted. “You owe me.” Ginny put her head back down on the table and sighed. She did owe her that much. After all, at the grand old age of 17 she’d just eloped with Harry and her mum hadn’t once yelled at her. “Just no pink, all right?” Ginny said resignedly. “Let’s get to work, then.” Mrs. Weasley said, sounded more cheerful than she had in years. |
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