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Category: Post-DH/AB Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Drama, General, Romance Warnings: Death, Extreme Language, Intimate Sexual Situations, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Sexual Situations, Violence Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 128 Summary: "I've had enough trouble for a lifetime," Harry Potter tells his friends after the Battle of Hogwarts. Life, however, is not done with Harry. The Wizarding community is left in chaos and it's up to Harry to fix it, and there's the small matter of repairing his relationship with Ginny, strained after months apart. Will Harry ever be able to settle and enjoy a simple life with the ones he loves? Hitcount: Story Total: 59505; Chapter Total: 2721 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: I've already updated once today, so please make sure you've read Chapter 18. This is a tough little chapter, but one I think was important to include as Harry and Ginny venture into parenthood. Neither Harry nor Ginny are at their best form here, and I think both are struggling with the significance of starting new life "together" (ah, see, the title is relevant). The goal of this story has really been to explore how Harry and Ginny operate as two imperfect people with some fairly nasty life experiences under the belt. I hope this chapter does that justice. The chapter title comes from a song by the Who. Happy reading! |
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If Harry and Ginny ever had more children, Harry had privately decided that he would go to great lengths to ensure that Ginny was never heavily pregnant in the middle of August again. She was a planet; sweaty, swollen and miserable, and Harry had been given the futile task of keeping her comfortable. He missed the days of early summer when she had been happy and energetic, working tirelessly to get their house ready for their new addition. They were lying in bed, all the windows open as the late-afternoon sun poured across their bodies, resting on top of the blankets. The cacophony of noise from the street below was comforting to Harry; it reminded him of sitting under the trees of the Hogwarts grounds with Ginny during those few perfect weeks in his sixth year, listening to the distant sounds of their peers going about end-of-term business. Ginny was napping now, and it was Harry's job to cast Cooling Charms frequently enough that the oppressive heat did not wake her. Harry found himself increasingly distracted, though, by a nagging worry that far superseded his casual fears about Ginny's impending delivery. His hand sought comfort across the great expanse of her belly, hoping to feel the baby's fluttering kicks against his palm. He still found it to be the most remarkable sensation in the world, but now was unrewarded in his search for movement from his unborn child. He figured the baby, relaxed by Ginny's stillness, had also fallen asleep, and lightly poked at her stomach, hoping for a response. Nothing. Harry sighed and tried again, now using four of his fingers to press firmly into the soft fabric of Ginny's t-shirt. He'd seen Ginny do this multiple times, whether attempting to coax the baby into movement to satisfy some overeager relative hoping to feel a kick, or to allay her own fears that something had happened to the child. Harry found this incredibly irrational, but Ginny's anxiety had peaked in these last few weeks. If she didn't feel the baby move for several hours, she became inconsolable that she had fatally failed her child and was not to be a mother after all. He still couldn't feel any movement and, giving up, rolled onto his back, only to see Ginny staring at him with one eye cracked open. "Why are you poking me?" she asked, her voice devoid of even the slightest hint of humour. "Er- I was hoping to feel the baby move," Harry said lamely. Ginny's eyes narrowed, but she couldn't hide the smile playing at the corner of her mouth. "Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus," she said softly, and Harry realized that her anger was all farce. He pushed his pointer finger hard into her side, watching her stomach flinch away. "I think she's sleeping," Ginny said. Harry sighed heavily. "How are you so sure it's a girl?" he asked her. She smiled. "Mother's intuition." Harry looked down. "I don't think I have any of that yet," he told her glumly. ` Ginny smirked. "Your mother's intuition hasn't kicked in yet?" she asked sympathetically. Harry took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean." Ginny nodded, reaching out to rub his arm reassuringly. "You're going to be a great dad," she murmured. Harry didn't say anything. Ginny sighed. "You're good and brave and smart and funny, Harry. Teddy adores you; he feels safe and happy with you; you listen to him and treat him with respect." It was her mention of Teddy that pushed Harry over the edge, and he looked at her for a moment before his fears spilled out of him. "What if something happens to us and the baby is left alone?" Ginny froze for a moment, before wrapping her fingers in Harry's hair and drawing his face in close to hers. "Nothing is going to happen to us," she said calmly. Harry sighed. "You can't know that," he told her. "My parents-" "-had you in the middle of a war, a war in which they were known to be operating against Voldemort. We are safe. And I happen to come from the largest family in Britain. The baby will have so many people eager to step in and care for them if something happens to us." "There are still people who want to hurt me, who could use you or the baby to get to me. It's not like we're bringing the baby into a beautiful, wonderful world." Ginny's hand flew instinctively to her stomach, as if just her few fingers could protect the tiny life residing there from all the terror in the world. But even as she rubbed her belly, her eyes rolled upwards, and Harry could sense her patience growing thin. "I'm tired of having this conversation with you every six months," she said. "I'm not afraid of anyone trying to use me to 'get to you'. I don't care. And as for the baby - I have no plans to sit idly by if someone threatens my child." Harry thought suddenly of Mrs. Weasley bringing down Bellatrix Lestrange and grimaced. Ginny gave a start on the bed beside him, and Harry looked to see her vast stomach shift grotesquely as the baby arched inside of her. Ginny closed her eyes and pressed a hand to the spot on her torso where the child had turned. "She's going to start breaking my ribs soon," Ginny said with a grimace. Harry grinned as Ginny settled back onto the bed, rubbing her stomach softly. "There actually is something that I'd like to talk to you about," she said after a moment, cracking an eye open yet again. "Oh?" Harry asked, settling back down beside her. Ginny bit her lip. "I want to see your aunt and uncle's house," she replied quietly. "I want to see the cupboard." Harry felt suddenly a bit ill, looking quickly away from her. "Why?" he asked uneasily. "I've never met your fam-" "They're not my family," Harry cut across her vehemently. "Your relatives, then," Ginny finished. "Look, we have to raise this baby, and I'd rather do a good job than a shit one, but I can't stop thinking about how you were raised so terribly and you turned out so selfless and brave-" "I wasn't raised terribly, I just wasn't raised at all," Harry interrupted again. "Stop talking over me!" Ginny snapped. "I want to go meet your Aunt and Uncle and really, I don't need you to go with me. Tomorrow I'm going to Surrey and you can decide whether or not you'll come along." Harry stared at her for a moment before huffing in defeat and turning towards the window. H arry didn't speak as he entered the house, depositing the box in his hands quickly on the sofa and taking the stairs two at a time up to the bedroom. He didn't bother to shut the door behind him, for he knew that would hardly stop Ginny, but as he flopped down on the bed and looked towards the doorway, he was surprised to see that she had picked up the moth-eaten box and was holding it now, walking towards the bed. "What is it?" she asked softly. "What is what?" Harry asked, playing the fool as he rubbed his eyes. Her patience was endless. "Cancer," she said. "What is it?" Harry stared at the ceiling. "I don't know, really. It causes lumps, masses, to grow on your organs, and spread from one to the other until they can't work properly anymore." "Oh," Ginny said. "That's why your uncle said…" "It was in her brain… her lungs… yeah," Harry finished for her. Ginny shuddered. "It sounds horrible." "Look, Ginny, I really don't want to talk about this," Harry said, kicking off his shoes. "We went. You saw the cupboard." "But the box…," Ginny began. "What could possibly be in there?" Harry asked her. "What could she possibly have had that she thought I'd want? Some more of Dudley's old clothes? A fly swatter?" "It's bound to be important if she left instructions with your cousin," Ginny said, giving the box a little shake. "She wanted you to have these things, Harry. You could at least respect her wish-" "Don't," Harry said, knowing that Ginny was merely curious, but feeling that she had crossed a line nevertheless. "Sorry," she said, looking back down at the box. "It's your decision, I suppose." She turned towards the hall, her bottom lip downturned. Harry rolled his eyes. "Damnit, Ginny, just give it here," Harry said, reaching his arm out. Ginny waddled back over to the bed, still looking quite concerned. Harry gingerly took the old hat box from her outstretched hands and set it on the bed, lifting the lid and peering inside. There was a knit blanket folded into the box with a slip of paper pinned to the top. Harry leaned forward. "I've been told I don't have very long, and have therefore asked Dudley to ensure that this box finds you. This is the blanket that you were wrapped in when I discovered you on the step. Below are letters that your mother sent me before she died." Harry's breath caught in his throat, and even Ginny, reading over his shoulder, was silent. Harry reached out and ran his hand across the blanket. Had his mother knit the loose stitches herself? Had it been in his cot when Voldemort had killed Lily Potter? Had Hagrid swaddled him in it before tucking him under his coat and riding off on Sirius' motorbike? His heart pounded, and he suddenly felt constricted, releasing a quavering breath. He felt Ginny sit beside him and squeeze his shoulder gently as he lifted the blanket slowly from the box. It smelled a bit like an attic, but it was soft and worn, and Harry could see it had been well-loved in its time. He set the blanket down on the bed, looking at the bottom of the box where the letters, several of them, lay. He picked up the topmost one, hesitating before unfolding it to reveal the contents. "I'll put the kettle on," Ginny said suddenly, making to stand up. "Stay," Harry said. "Please?" She sank back to the bed without a word, leaning back and placing one hand on her stomach, the other remaining on his arm. He lifted the first fold of the letter, which was a plain stationary, not like the parchment on which she'd written the letter to Sirius he'd discovered some six years earlier. The letter's ink ran in places and had several greasy stains on it. "It looks as though it was fished out of the bin," Ginny murmured. Harry didn't reply, his eyes flashing to the date in the corner. August 8th, 1980. Beside him, Ginny took a deep breath. He began to read. I've had the baby. It's a boy. We've decided to call him Harry, after James' grandfather. I was so happy to receive the birth announcement for Dudley. I'm sorry for not replying; I've been so exhausted in these last weeks that lifting a pen has seemed almost impossible. I know I was a bit short with you in my last letter; I'm sorry for that as well. Since Harry's arrival I feel as though I've been flooded with warmth. I'm sure I needn't explain to you. Motherhood is wonderful, isn't it? Still, some warning would've been nice, Tuney. I haven't been able to sit properly in a week. Harry is fantastic and James is just besotted with him. Things have been difficult in our corner of the world and we've been a bit shut in-lately. I know you prefer that I don't discuss it with you, but all of this fighting and now Harry have made me realize that I'd like to see you. Perhaps we could have a visit and the boys could meet? Give Vernon my congratulations. Lily Harry put the letter down and regarded it as it sat on the bed. Ginny was right: it didn't look carefully preserved, but rather as though someone had chucked it away and then pulled it out of the dustbin in remorse. He thumbed through the rest of the stationary quickly. The letter announcing Harry's birth had the most recent date. "She never wrote back," Harry said under his breath. "Harry…," Ginny began. "I don't want to talk about it," Harry said. He'd never understand his aunt; he could see her jealousy, her resentment, but to have her only sister reach out trying to make amends and to just ignore her? He turned around to Ginny again, contradicting himself. "Imagine!" he shouted. "Imagine if we died and this baby-" Harry gestured wildly at his wife's swollen abdomen "- went to live with Ron and Hermione and they shut her in a closet and refused to call her by her name and would go days without feeding her?! Your brother doing that to your child?!" Ginny had gone quite pale, but Harry ignored this. "Did she think this would make up for it?!" he asked, lifting the old hatbox and dropping it back down on the bed so that the letters jumped from within. "About to die and feeling remorseful so she writes me a note and sends me a blanket? I had no childhood! I didn't play games or draw pictures or hear bedtime stories! And it was all because of her!" He wanted to kick something. It had been years since he'd felt sorry for himself like this, but now, with the brutal memory of his aunt's terrible treatment shoved in his face, he could hardly keep the rage at bay. After the war, he'd felt pity for Petunia, her terrible inferiority complex keeping her from ever being truly happy or content in life. But now, with the knowledge and presence of his own child, he couldn't fathom her neglect. Lily Potter may not have been perfect, but she was a good person who loved her sister. Harry was sure his own mother would've taken Dudley gladly, not begrudgingly, had their situations been reversed. He was sure of it. He glanced back up to Ginny, who was clearly quite upset. He felt a surge of resentment towards his wife and her idyllic childhood at the Burrow. "I told you I didn't want to go to Surrey!" Harry spat at her. "I told you I didn't want to look in the fucking box, but you pushed and pushed until you got what you wanted! You're so bloody stubborn sometimes; d'you have any idea what this is like for me? What those people and that place are like for me?!" Ginny's expression turned from miserable and concerned to a startling shade of red and she squared her shoulders to meet his gaze. "You can't shout at me like that!" she snapped. "Of course I have to push, Harry, there's an entire decade of your life that I know nothing about! You don't talk about your aunt and uncle! I've asked Ron and Hermione and they don't know either. It's not like you just started existing the day you got on the train to school!" "It is though!" Harry cried. "You don't understand - it's always been so easy for you and-" "Are you joking?" Ginny said, pushing herself up from the bed. Her movements were so slow in comparison with her clear ire that for a moment Harry nearly laughed. "Easy? Easy, growing up with no money, being the youngest of seven? Easy, starting school being possessed by Voldemort's Horcrux? Easy, being chased around by the Carrows for an entire year? Oh, yeah, and it was really easy when that wall crushed my brother!" She looked, perhaps, more furious than Harry had ever seen her, standing now with her hands on her hips and glaring at him. He felt humbled for a moment, for her knew she was right. Still, he felt as though he'd been utterly ignored. He'd thought for his entire life that he wouldn't care if his aunt and uncle died, but now all he felt was blind rage, and more hurt than he'd thought possible. He didn't want to shout at Ginny anymore, for he knew she didn't deserve that, but he couldn't stay in this room and calmly continue this conversation. He stomped out into the hall and back down the stairs into the sitting room. He threw himself moodily down onto the sofa, pinching the bridge of his nose. He'd forgotten the smells of Privet Drive, bleach and potpourri, and now they lingered in his nose, a terrible reminder of a terrible childhood. It wasn't long before a small, warm hand brushed his shoulder, and he felt Ginny's body clamber onto the sofa next to him. She curled her torso around him, cradling him as if he were a frightened child. "I'm sorry," she mumbled into his hair, clutching him tighter. Harry ran a hand up and down her arm. "I didn't give you the space you needed." "I'm sorry, too," Harry said. "I shouldn't have shouted. I felt so jealous for a moment about your childhood at the Burrow. I just really don't like dwelling on them. I know it's important… with the baby and everything… I know it's important that we talk about those things." "The baby's going to be fine, Harry," Ginny said softly. "What if she asks, though?" Harry wondered, again allowing Ginny her assertion that they were having a daughter. "What if she asks about my life when I was a child?" "We'll cross that bridge when we get there," Ginny said. "Everything is going to be absolutely okay. I promise, sweetheart." Harry blanched at her use of a pet name, knowing that he must truly seem upset for Ginny to coddle him so. "What happened?" Ginny asked his shoulder. "A few months ago I was the one who was terrified and you were reassuring me. This is supposed to be a happy time, Harry." "I don't know," Harry said. "Everything just feels so out of control. There are so many things that can go wrong." Ginny looked thoughtful for a moment, leaning back. "There are so many things that can go right, too, Harry," she reminded him. "Holidays and first steps and trips to the Burrow. We're going to be a family. We're going to be so happy, I can feel it. This baby is going to be the best thing that's ever happened to you." Harry gave her a wry smile. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Ginny." Ginny grinned in return. "Smart answer. However, I'm happily prepared to be unseated in that achievement." Just then, the door opened abruptly, causing Harry and Ginny to jump in surprise. Ron trudged in, soot covering his face and hair singed. He took one look at Harry and Ginny's expressions as they sat curled together on the couch. "Merlin," he said. "Who's died?" Ginny looked at Harry in concern, but Harry took in the sight of his best friend and began to shake with silent laughter. Ginny's expression relaxed and she smiled tentatively. Ron stood before them in confusion, his face blackened by whatever experiment of George's he was forced to play guinea pig to. "Petunia," Harry said finally, wiping a tear away from his eye. "Petunia died." "Sorry?" he said finally, more a question than an expression of condolence. Harry nodded his head in gratitude. "It's alright," he said, and as Ginny squeezed his hand, he had the sudden realization that everything would be. |
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