Another World, Another Time by herekittykitty
Summary: Life goes on after Voldemort's defeat, even though Harry disappears without a trace. How does Ginny deal with his return four years later, when both of them have become very different people?
Rating: R
Categories: Alternate Universe, Post-HBP, Post-Hogwarts
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2006.12.19
Updated: 2007.08.16
Index
Chapter 1: Prologue: Imagining the Future
Chapter 2: Chapter 1 : A Year of Hope
Chapter 3: Chapter 2: Awake
Chapter 4: Chapter 3 - Joy
Chapter 5: Chapter 4 - Pain
Chapter 6: Chapter 5 - Birthday
Chapter 7: Chapter 6 - Flicker
Chapter 8: Chapter 7: Missing Pieces
Chapter 9: Chapter 8: Reunion
Chapter 10: Chapter 9 - The Game
Chapter 11: Chapter 10: Reflections
Chapter 12: Chapter 11 - Hogwarts
Chapter 13: Chapter 12 - Flight
Chapter 14: Chapter 13 - An Affair to Remember
Chapter 15: Chapter 14: Hopeless
Chapter 16: Chapter 15 - Saturday
Chapter 17: Chapter 16: More Than Perfect
Chapter 18: Chapter 17 - Blue
Chapter 19: Chapter 18: Epilogue
Chapter 1: Prologue: Imagining the Future
Author's Notes: I'd like to offer a toast to my wonderful beta, cwarbeck! *clinks imaginary glass of butterbeer* This story's gonna be a wild and crazy ride, so y'all best hold on to your britches! I would also like to ask all you kind readers out there to suspend your disbelief as to whether or not this will be a Harry/Ginny story, just for a couple of chapters. I solemnly swear I will deliver you much Harry/Ginny goodness in time (and these sorts of things are always so much better if you wait for 'em anyways! )
Ginny Weasley was tucked peacefully beneath the covers of her bed. Her chest rose and fell with the deceptively peaceful rhythms of sleep, but her mind raced beneath closed eyes. She desperately needed a good night’s sleep, it was of the utmost importance considering what they were up against the next day. Who knew when there would be another chance to lay down and rest? She snuggled into the warm blanket, and a sudden jolt of cold fear raced through her heart. What if she never saw this bed again?
She opened her eyes and sighed shakily. Sleeping was a complete waste of time anyhow, under the circumstances. There should be laughter and wonderful memories being made. No one knew who could be next. Ginny shuddered, thinking about all the funerals she’d attended that summer, she didn’t know if she could handle any more death-
“Gin? Are you awake?” Harry whispered faintly.
“Of course I am,” she replied with a heavy sigh.
Harry was laying beside her, chaste and fully-clothed on top of the blankets, his glasses folded on her night table. She snuggled against his shoulder. “You can’t sleep either, huh?”
“Nope.” He pressed a lingering kiss on her forehead, winding a long piece of her hair around his finger. “I keep thinking about that Horcrux. The final piece to the puzzle. We’re so close, yet still so far.”
“We’ll get it, Harry. I just know it."
“I sure hope so.” Harry’s worried look melted gently into a smile as he looked over at her.
“What’s the goofy smile for?”
“I’m thinking about your mum barging in here and seeing me in her daughter’s bed.”
Ginny stifled a giggle behind her hand. She had a suspicion that her mother already knew Ron and Ginny had secretly switched roommates — just after midnight for the past few weeks, Hermione would sneak up to Ron’s room while Harry tiptoed down the hall to hers’. There had been a few very significant looks over breakfast from Mrs. Weasley — she knew something was up, but nothing had been said... yet.
“Oddly enough, Harry, I think Mum might already know,” Ginny whispered, her eyes twinkling.
“Then why hasn’t she asked Charlie to feed me to a dragon?” Harry nuzzled her cheek as Ginny laughed. “Maybe I should go. I’ve faced Voldemort, but your mum’s rage is something I’m not prepared to handle.”
Ginny pulled Harry on top of her and wrapped her arms around his neck. “What if I said I’d make it worth your while, Mr. Potter?”
Harry cocked his eyebrow and smiled wickedly down at her. “Well, in that case Miss Weasley...”
Ginny sighed blissfully as Harry gently kissed her neck. Despite the fact that they were sharing a bed, their relationship had remained relatively innocent. Just kissing, touching. Ginny felt like she could talk to Harry about anything, but they had never even talked about going further than that. It was as though they had both drawn the same line, a line they didn’t dare cross.
“Do you ever think about what’s going to happen when it’s all over?” she murmured.
Harry stopped kissing her. “When what’s all over?”
Ginny inwardly chastised herself for bringing it up again. She'd destroyed the mood completely. But they did need to talk. “You know what I mean, Harry. When he’s finally gone.”
Harry paused, rolling away and crossing his arms behind his head. “Of course I think about it...”
Ginny leaned on one elbow and looked down at him, her hand on his chest, over. She could feel it beating beneath her fingers. Harry lay still, engrossed in thought, refusing to meet her eyes. Ginny knew that didn’t necessarily mean he didn’t want to talk, it just meant he needed a little prodding.
“And?” she furthered gently.
“And what?” Harry replied.
“What is it you want to do when it’s all over? When you're free of all obligation?”
“I don’t rightly know...”
“Well, how about jobs? D'you still want to be an Auror?”
Harry shrugged moodily, his reply terse. “ I dunno. Maybe.”
“Why do you sound so frustrated?”
“Because even though I try to think about the future - and believe me, I do - it’s bloody impossible to think past Voldemort right now.” Harry rubbed at his eyes. “I really wish I could tell you that once that git's destroyed, the world would go on happily, but I can’t say that. We’re never going to find that Horcrux…”
Ginny couldn’t quite deny the last part of Harry’s statement, not yet anyway. There had been absolutely no progress on the last Horcrux. Four months of intensive research by the Order yielded nothing; last week, Kingsley had tentatively proposed what Ginny was sure many of them had been thinking. Perhaps Harry himself was the Horcrux. The idea had been dismissed after a brief discussion, but Ginny knew that with every single day that passed with no clues as to the next step, the idea haunted Harry. Why hadn’t Voldemort come to find him yet? What was he waiting for?
“You’re not a Horcrux, silly. It’s a ridiculous idea.”
“I hope you’re right, Gin,” Harry said quietly.
“I know I’m right,” Ginny replied stubbornly, cupping his cheek with a soft hand. He couldn’t die. It had never made sense to Ginny, the thought that Voldemort would use the sweet, perfect boy beside her as a Horcrux, a container for a soul of pure evil. The act of making a Horcrux had to be deliberate; what had happened between Voldemort and Harry when he was only a year old was anything but planned.
Harry chewed on his lower lip nervously. “Can we talk about something important?”
“Anything...”
“'I've been thinking. In case something happens to me-”
“It won’t, Harry!”
“No! Listen, Ginny. Please. In case something happens to me, I need you to make me a promise.”
Ginny looked at him, his despair mirrored in her brown eyes. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll promise you anything.”
Harry took a deep breath. “I know you girls think no one’s listening when you and Hermione talk about what you want in the future, but sometimes I do listen, Ginny.”
“You do?” Ginny felt somewhat embarrassed.
“Yeah. And that’s why I want you to promise me that you’ll do everything you talk about doing. All that stuff you’ve said about playing Quidditch and having a zillion red-headed babies and a house on the Scottish highlands-”
“Oh, Harry, that’s all girlish nonsense-”
“It’s not nonsense, Ginny.” Harry replied firmly. His eyes were dark and serious. “There’s no reason you can’t have all that, and more. And I want to be there with you. But if I’m not, I want you to find some bloke that makes you happy. I want you to promise me you’ll always be as carefree and lovely and strong as you are right this second.”
Ginny grinned, her eyes pricking with tears. “Oh Harry...”
“Promise me.”
“I...I promise.”
“Good, Harry replied firmly, pulling her close. Ginny closed her eyes and hugged him with all her might, his body warm and solid.
“Harry, did you really mean all that?” she whispered.
“Of course.”
“The bit about wanting to be there with me...”
Harry glided a finger down Ginny’s spine. “Of course I want to be there. There’s no doubt in my mind. You’re my forever, Ginny Weasley.”
Chapter 2: Chapter 1 : A Year of Hope
Author's Notes: I hope y'all don't hate me forever after this one. I reiterate what I said in the foreword: I solemnly swear I will deliver you much Harry/Ginny goodness in time (and these sorts of things are always so much better if you wait for 'em anyways! ) In the meantime, uh... let's all close our eyes for a moment and picture Sean Biggerstaff with his shirt off. *snicker*
Fourteen months later...
The tall Mediwizard peeled open the yellow envelope containing the spell test results with agonizing slowness. Molly Weasley was perched precariously on the very edge of her seat, squeezing her daughter’s hand so hard that Ginny was certain she wouldn't be able to hold a wand the next day. However, the pressure was appropriate, given the circumstances...
Hermione paced back and forth behind Ginny and her mom. The nervous energy radiated from the young mediwitch in waves of static electricity; Ginny swore she felt the hair on the back of her arms stand on end as her bushy-haired friend stopped, gripping the back of Mrs. Weasley’s chair with white-knuckled hands.
It was finally here, the day the Weasley family had been waiting for. The mediwizards had performed an exhaustive battery of tests to make sure it was the right time, to make absolutely sure that no possible damage could result from their actions. If they woke him even a day too early, there could be disasterous consequences from spell damage. It could cause permanent brain damage, loss of memory, paralysis, loss of speech. Ginny shivered.
It was better to wait. Hermione reassured them of that fact almost every single day, her nose in one mediwizarding textbook or another during her bedside vigil. But they had been waiting over a year; a year of that same dull beige hospital room, of countless tests, of dry cafeteria food and uncomfortable wooden chairs; a year of staring hopefully at that still body in that hospital bed. A year of waiting. A year of hope.
The tall mediwizard was still peering at the scroll over his wire-rimmed glasses, an inscrutable look on his face as he studied the results carefully. Ginny’s heart was pounding in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing in deeply.
"Oh, enough with the drama!" Hermione snipped, walking over and yanked the paper from the mediwizard’s hand. Ginny watched the tight lines on her future sister-in-law's face relax for the first time in over a year.
"We can wake him up tomorrow," she whispered, excitement lighting her eyes.
****
A bell began to chime in the distance, slowly growing louder. Ginny opened her eyes reluctantly, and with a snap of her fingers, her alarm charm stopped.
Ginny didn’t need Divination to analyze her dreams - they were always the same.
Memories, picture perfect, a slideshow of events from that last summer, the happiest and, at the same time, maybe the most frightening time of her life. Those long summer days with Harry, Hermione, Luna and Ron, the balmy perfect summer days in which young witches and wizards should be playing Quidditch with their friends, shopping in Hogsmeade, swimming and sunbathing and having a laugh, were instead spent in the Hogwarts library. The four teenagers researched long hours, trying to figure out the next piece in the Horcrux puzzle, with frequent help from Tonks, Remus and other Order members. Sometimes, they’d be up all night, drinking tea in the Gryffindor common room, books and paper heaped higher than their heads on the table. They would often nod off in front of the fire, their faces pressed into the books and scrolls in front of them. Despite their preparation, Ginny hadn’t for a moment guessed the enormity of what was coming. None of them had.
However, research into dark magic was most certainly not what Ginny had been dreaming about. There was a certain theme to her pervasive dreams, a certain face that haunted Ginny’s nights. A certain sort of smile that crossed the face of a boy she hadn’t seen in over a year.
Ginny pulled on her clothes and, after a quick shower, headed down to the kitchen in the Burrow. The residual sadness from her dream was slowly fading. Sometimes, the sorrow stayed with her all day, stuck to her like a fog, but today excitement and nervousness competed for her attention. It was such an important day.
“Want some breakfast, dear?”
“Just toast, Mum,” Ginny said, grabbing a thick piece of buttered toast from the stack on the table “I’m too nervous to eat.”
“Me too, dear,” Molly sighed, eyeing her huge spread warily. As per usual, she took comfort in cooking.
“Don’t worry, Mum, Fred and George will be down soon. They’ll take care of that.” Ginny kissed her mother on the cheek, and grabbed a cup of coffee. “I’m going to the hospital early. I feel skittish.”
“I’ll see you there soon, dear,” her mom replied, looking out the window distractedly as she fiddled with the handle of her coffee mug.
Ginny felt that same distracted energy in every nerve of her body as she Dissapparated, reappearing a moment later in the familiar hospital lobby. She lined up at the coffee stand and grinned to herself, wondering if Hermione had stayed true to last night’s pledge to read the past two year’s Quidditch Quarterly issues in a single night. She had told Ginny she wanted to be able to update Ron on everything he had missed, including all Cannons stats.
And there was definitely an awful lot to update him about, Ginny mused, as she paid for her coffee. So much had happened since Ron’s injury that Ginny had no idea where they could even begin. With Harry? No... something positive. Perhaps that their father being appointed Minister of Magic. The news about Harry could come later. Ginny sighed - of course he would be the first thing Ron would ask about, they were best friends. He’d want to know had Harry defeated him, how Harry was doing now, and he’d want to know the split-second after he woke. She was kidding herself to think otherwise.
Ginny strolled towards the elevators, thoughtful and a little pensive. It was a wonderful day, despite all the sad news they would have to impart. Ginny almost couldn’t believe that later that day, her favourite brother would be beating her senseless at Wizard Chess again. She smiled to herself letting the happiness take hold again. Later, Ron would be snickering at jokes, talking Quidditch and making predictions about the Cannon’s next season. Ina few hours, Ron would be holding his fiancée’s hand-
"Whoa! Weasley, watch where're you're going!" a deep voice growled playfully.
"Oh hell, I’m so sorry, Ollie!" Ginny pulled her wand from the pocket of her pea coat and muttered a quick cleaning spell - the front of the tall man's white oxford shirt was now covered in her coffee. "I didn't burn you, did I?"
"Don’t know. I can't feel anything," Oliver Wood shrugged and, with a crooked smirk, held up his right arm, which was wrapped in a magical brace. "Pain charm. Broke my wrist last night showing the new reserve Keeper a proper Starfish and Stick."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Another injury, Ollie? You secretly live in this hospital, don't you?"
There was no end to Oliver’s Quidditch injuries. The Woods and the Weasleys had become fast friends - his mum shared Ron’s room for several months. Ollie had become their surrogate brother - debating Quidditch with the twins, sharing stories about his wild days at Hogwarts. He had even gotten the Weasley family season tickets to Puddlemere home games, where he was the star Keeper in the League.
"All these injuries give me the perfect excuse to see my favourite gorgeous redhead though, don’t they?" Ollie said with a charming smile. Ginny rolled her eyes and giggled as the lift in front of them opened, and two very tousle-headed, nearly identical faces glared out at them.
"Oi Wood, which one of us redheads would you be talking about?" asked Fred, raising his eyebrow as Oliver and Ginny got on the lift with them.
"Toss off, Fred. I'm the twin everyone loves," George yawned, leaning against the wall of the lift. "However, not even twenty bottles of Firewhisky could tempt me to hook up with Wood, despite those fantastic tabloid rumours. Now Wood, is it true that you-"
"It certainly smells like you've polished off twenty bottles between the both of you," Ginny interrupted, wrinkling her nose at her brothers as the elevator stopped on the fourth floor. “It’s 8:00 am, for Merlin’s sake!”
“Well, it was 8:00 p.m. when we started!” George wailed.
"Just celebrating, is all,” Fred added.
“Can’t blame a bloke for that, now can you?” George stifled a belch.
"What are you boys celebrating, then?" Oliver inquired, as they started down the bustling hallway.
"They're waking Ron up today," Ginny announced triumphantly.
Oliver’s face lit up in a bright grin. "That's brilliant! Congratulations!"
"And to make the day even more unbelievable, those two blonde nurses are on-call," Fred added, nudging George, who cocked an eyebrow appreciatively at two witches, studying patient charts at the nurses’ station down the hall.
“Make sure to drink a sobering potion before Mum gets here.” Ginny rolled her eyes as the tall redheads sauntered away, smoothing down their robes.
“Well, that’s great to hear, Ginny.” Oliver smiled. “When are they waking Ron up?"
"Not for a couple of hours. I’m early!"
“That means I can buy you a fresh cup of coffee,” Oliver offered her his un-bandaged arm. "Shall we?"
“That’d be lovely.” Ginny linked arms with Oliver and smiled up at him warmly as they turned back to the lift.
Ollie grinned back. “So, have you given any more thought to your Quidditch career?”
Ginny shrugged. “A little. But I’m out of practice. I don’t know how good my chances would be.”
“It’s worth a shot. You know you’ve still got three weeks until league tryouts. That’s enough time to pull things together, if you’re training hard.”
“Perhaps...” Ginny looked doubtful.
“My practice schedule’s light with the injury and all. I can help you run drills! From what I hear, you were a bloody fine Chaser. Who knows, maybe Puddlemere will snatch you up.”
“Chudley would be my first pick,” Ginny replied with a smirk, as the elevator descended.
“In that case, don’t practice at all. And you can borrow my grandma’s Comet 180,” Oliver joked.
“You prat!” Ginny giggled.
Oliver grinned, but his eyes were serious. “I think you should give it a try, Ginny. I really do.”
“Ollie, I’m out of shape. I'd never make it-”
“Oh pish! You don’t know that. Show those Gryffindor colors and give it a try... or do you want to give up without a fight?”
“But-”
“We can practice every day, if you want. I’d love to help you train.”
Ginny bit her lip. Her chances were slim to nothing, but playing professional Quidditch was a dream she ’d had since childhood. If Oliver Wood of all people was willing to help, it would be silly to say no.
“You’re serious about helping me to train?” Ginny asked, biting her lip. She thought back to the last game she had seen him play, how breathtakingly quick he was, how nimble and lithe. It would be an honour just to be on the pitch with him.
“Absolutely. I’d love to help.” Oliver replied earnestly.
Ginny shrugged. “Oh, what the hell! I suppose I have nothing to lose.”
“And everything to gain,” Oliver added with a smirk.
“It would be stupid to throw away the opportunity without even trying,” Ginny agreed, laughing despite herself. Professional Quidditch. She had given up on it this past year, what with Ron being so ill, and the time she’d been spending at the hospital.
Oliver was leaning against the opposite wall of the elevator, studying her. Ginny raised her eyebrow quizzically.
"You know, I was thinking. I don’t think I’ve seen you laugh before. Not until this morning."
"I guess there hasn't been a lot to laugh about," Ginny replied.
Oliver's face clouded a bit as they got off the elevator. "No. I suppose not.”
Oliver's mum had at one point occupied the bed next to Ron and, like Ron, she had been the victim of Cruiacius torture - a favourite tactic of the Death Eater's in the last stretches of the war. However, Mrs. Wood’s level of damage had been far worse than Ron’s - there was never even the faintest chance of her waking up. Even Neville’s parents were better off, Ginny reflected sadly. Ginny had seen Oliver and his father spend many a sleepless night in that hospital room, watching helplessly, hopelessly, as Mrs. Wood deteriorated.
She had passed away nearly eight months ago. Oliver had taken an extended leave from Puddlemere while his mother was ill, but he had gone back to Quidditch immediately after the funeral, throwing himself into the sport with a vengeance.
Keepers, especially good Keepers, received almost as many injuries as Seekers, which meant the Weasley's still saw Oliver at St. Mungo’s every week or so. Whenever he was in, he popped by to check on his so-called “second family”. Oliver and his father had also started coming over for Sunday dinners. Ginny had found Oliver a bit cocky and overconfident at first, but as she learned more about him, he slowly became one of her favourite people.
"I'll get this, Gin," Oliver interjected as Ginny ordered her coffee from the grumpy looking witch in the purple robes of the hospital tea shop. "One coffee. And a green tea for me please, with a dash of honey," Oliver added.
Ginny and Oliver got their drinks and sat at a quiet table in the corner in comfortable silence for a few minutes, watching the hustle and bustle of shift-change mediwizards, with shuffling steps and haggard eyes, ordering double-giant coffees in big pea-green mugs that matched their robes.
"So how's Melinda been?" Ginny began.
"It’s Melissa. And I'm not sure how she is - we broke up last week." Oliver sipped his tea casually.
"Oh... Sorry." Ginny bit her lip.
"Not a big deal, Ginny." He shrugged. "Melissa wasn’t the right girl for me. We were only together for what, a month? Not even a month..."
"A whole month is pretty long-term for you... or at least that’s what the experts at Witch Weekly say," Ginny quipped, trying not to smirk.
Oliver put his tea down and shook his head in shock. "I never thought you’d read that nonsense, Weasley."
"Oh, I don’t.” Ginny replied blithely. “The only issue I’ve read is that one that’s been on the table outside the nurses' station for the past month or so,” Ginny raised her eyebrows. “And I must say, Ollie, it’s very revealing!”
“Well, dear Ginny, perhaps you should do more intensive research before jumping to conclusions." Oliver smiled mysteriously, sipping his drink.
“Perhaps...”
"So, has your love life been splattered across the covers of any tabloids lately?"
"Does staying up doing crosswords on Friday nights with Larry, the catatonic guy down the hall from Ron, count as a date? Because if it does, Larry and I are hot and heavy."
Oliver laughed. "I suppose you didn't have time to think of blokes anyways, what with spending all your time here."
Ginny smiled, hoping it looked genuine even though it didn’t feel that way. She had only ever thought of one boy during in her whole eighteen years on this earth. And a year ago, he had broken her heart.
"I've been a busy young lady, and I mean a different kind of busy than you, Ollie. What did that article called you..."Puddlemere's Don Juan?"
"Shhh!" Oliver laughed. "Those papers exaggerate things. Besides, Mrs. Prim-and-Proper, I heard through the grapevine that you dated half your year-"
"Oh, they wouldn't DARE!" Ginny interrupted, shocked. "Where'd you hear such utter tripe?"
"Let’s just say that a couple of little birds told me," Oliver shrugged, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
"Fred and George!” Ginny muttered. “Oh... oh bollocks! How dare they mar their little sister's spotless reputation!"
“Spotless, huh?” Oliver cocked an eyebrow.
“Well, mostly spotless!” Ginny sputtered, feeling her cheeks go red. Ollie laughed heartily.
“So, this Melinda witch-”
“Melissa.”
“Right. Melissa. Why’d you two break it off?”
“I like someone else, I guess.”
“Oh, isn’t that always the story! Who’s the new girl, then?”
Oliver stirred his tea for a moment, staring into the foggy liquid depths of his cup. “I’m not sure I should tell you…”
“Oh, be a sport, Ollie! Chances are I’m not going to know her anyways, given I’m cooped up in this place all the time.”
“I think you might.”
“It doesn’t matter. C’mon, be a sport!”
Oliver smiled slowly and shrugged. “Well, this girl.. she’s totally amazing. I can’t believe how brilliant and perfect she is. The more time I spend with her, the more certain I become that she’s the girl for me. I just know it, deep inside. She’s one of those people who fills up a room with her presence, you know? I’m so drawn to her, it’s almost a magnetic pull,” Oliver replied, his voice low and serious.
“Wow...”
“And when she smiles... I absolutely lose myself for a second. The craziest, dizziest feeling.”
Ginny stared at Oliver wordlessly. She had never heard him speak so candidly and eloquently about anything before.
Oliver cleared his throat nervously and continued. “On top of it all, she’s absolutely gorgeous. When she walks past, the blokes all turn and stare. The cute thing is that she doesn’t even know it, how incredibly beautiful she is.”
“Well, you... you should tell her,” Ginny sputtered.
Oliver looked up at her, swallowing heavily. “That’s what I’m trying to do right now.”
A strange feeling crept up the back of her neck. She could not have heard him correctly - but she knew she had. But.. but he couldn’t possibly have meant what she thought he meant...
Oliver’s face grew red, and he fidgeted with the collar of his shirt for a moment. Ginny had never seen Oliver lose his composure, not even once, and here he was, right in front of her, blushing bright pink. Her hands fidgeted nervously with her coffee cup. She wanted to make a joke, to lighten everything again, but she couldn’t find her voice.
The awkward silence grew until Oliver finally cleared his throat, and smiled nervously.
"And to think I was doing such a good job keeping everything suave and nonchalant when all I wanted to do all this time was ask you out.” He pulled a hand through his hair awkwardly and sat up straighter.
“So, it’s finally out there, Ginny. Do you maybe want to-”
"I'd love to go out sometime," Ginny blurted, her mind a panicked blur. Where had this come from? Why?
Oliver exhaled loudly, a huge smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Wow. That wasn’t nearly as difficult as I’d always envisioned it to be."
"I don’t know why you thought it would be difficult.” Ginny cocked an eyebrow, hoping her eyes didn’t betray the intense nervousness that was threatening to overtake her. "Technically, Don Juan de Puddlemere, we're on a date right now."
Oliver snorted with laughter and surveyed their surroundings: the long, windowless beige hall smelling of stale gravy and slightly soured milk.
"St. Mungo's is your idea of a date, Ginny?"
"Well, if you think about it. We're spending time here alone together." Ginny slowly relaxed back into humour. She pretended to mark off points on an imaginary checklist. "You asked me to accompany you here, and you bought me coffee like a truly chivalrous gentleman... then you talked about your feelings. All proper dating guidelines seem to have been met."
"Bloody hell, what a shite first date," Oliver buried his head in his hands.
"What are you so worried for, Ollie! I'm having a blast," Ginny giggled. What was the big deal anyhow? She liked Oliver; they got along smashingly. This was a wonderful development, unexpected but wonderful-
And suddenly, Oliver's hand had closed over hers on the table. Her heart jumped back into her throat.
"I've liked you a long time, Weasley. I’m a total prat around you - as you probably noticed."
"I had no clue..." The nervous feeling in Ginny's stomach escalated even more.
“I walked right into your coffee today, you know. There you were, absolutely breathtaking, strolling right towards me, this incredibly vivid smile on your face and I just couldn’t move.”
“Really?”
Oliver nodded. "The first time I ever met you, I thought you were one of the prettiest girls I’d ever seen. And then I got to know you and it only got better." He grinned at her. "I usually don't have all this trouble asking girls out - I usually don’t wait a bloody lifetime before saying something, but you're different, Ginny. All that stuff I said earlier is absolutely true.”
Ginny just stared at him.
Oliver smiled at her and made his own imaginary checklist. “Crazy sense of humour, excellent taste, ravishingly beautiful, loves Quidditch, smart as a whip... I could go on forever, but I’m out of fingers. A couple of weeks ago, I spilled to my dad for probably an hour about how much I liked you, for Merlin’s sake-"
"Thank you so much, Ollie."
"For what?"
Ginny wasn't sure. She felt like a girl again - no, a woman. There was something quiet and warm about Oliver, underneath his boisterous flirtatiousness. There was something in the way he looked at her that made her feel like she might be half as beautiful as he thought she was. She looked down at her coffee shyly.
"Thanks for everything, really."
Oliver squeezed her hand. "So, what are you doing tomorrow night?"
"Something with you." Ginny replied with a shy smile.
Chapter 3: Chapter 2: Awake
Author's Notes: ...some of the background detail you might be craving!
Chapter Two: Awake
"For the thousandth time, none of us have heard anything, Ron. No letters, no clues whatsoever..." Hermione's normally confident voice was shaking just a little - she was either close to tears or incredibly frustrated.
"Bloody hell," Ron replied, dragging his fingers through his messy hair. "I can’t believe that no one saw him get hurt or taken.... and there was no sign of a struggle at his place..."
"He wasn’t hurt, Ron. I know you’re thinking that we’re all keeping these details from you because you’re still ill, but we’d never keep this sort of thing from you,” Hermione sighed. “You have to understand, Ron. Harry just... left. About a week after you were hurt, he disappeared and we never heard from him again."
“That makes no sense.”
“Ron, Harry was a mess over what had happened - he knew how you were shielding him from the Death Eaters when you were cornered, and of course, he blamed himself for everything.”
Ginny quietly nodded her assent, willing her brother to change subject, even though she knew there wasn't the slightest chance he would. They’d been having versions of the same conversation for the past ten days. The absence of Harry among the loved ones who had crowded into Ron’s hospital room was far too obvious to everyone. He was Ron’s best friend, and he was gone, without a word to anyone.
A zillion unanswered questions hung in the air. Ginny knew all too well why Ron kept reaching out, grabbing at any question he could, searching those around him for an answer that made sense. There wasn't any answers - there were guesses, ideas, wild speculation. But it just hurt too much to let those questions go. It hurt too much to let Harry go. It was almost impossible to understand that Harry was gone -— no one could tell Ron anything that would heal that betrayal. Harry’s disappearance seemed to defy all logic - it went against the innate sense of loyalty and bravery they’d all assumed was at Harry’s core.
But the facts behind Harry’s disappearance spoke louder than reason. One day, a few weeks after the war had ended, Harry left St Mungo’s, went back to Grimmauld Place and packed his trunk. He sent Hedwig off to Remus’ house, no letter attached to her leg. And then he left, leaving no clue to his proposed destination. All Owls addressed to him had returned unopened. He had walked away from Hermione and Ginny that day while they were seated at Ron’s bedside with a distracted goodbye. That was the last they had heard of him.
The Aurors searched endlessly for evidence of foul play - they were still searching - and they'd found nothing. The fact that he had packed his trunk - all his clothes and personal effects, the framed photo of his mother and father that used to be at his bedside - made it obvious that Harry had simply decided it was time to leave town. There was little doubt.
Ginny had refused to believe it at first. Harry had gone away, sure, but he needed a break from the press and the pressure. If anyone deserved a vacation, it was Harry. She defended him heatedly among friends and family, Hermione always supporting her. Something had to have happened while he was away - maybe he ran into trouble. An Owl would come soon, it just had to. Harry would never abandon his best friend on what could very well be his deathbed.
But Christmas came and went, and there was still no word. The hope that had burned so fiercely in Ginny’s heart - the hope that Harry would return - started to fade, but it was slowly replaced by a new and very different hope - the mediwizards thought her brother could make it through unscathed. She had to concentrate on that: she had to fill her brother’s life with positive energy. She had to help him wake up.
Ginny spent as much time as ever at the hospital with her family, but she no longer jumped up to look every time the door opened. She didn’t lay in bed at night, sleepless, waiting for Owls from her supposed beloved. It was clear as time went on that Harry wasn’t planning on coming back to her. He wasn’t planning on contacting any of them, or letting them know how he was. He had left her for good; worse, he had left her brother at a time when Ron needed everyone there pulling for him, sending him their love. Harry had hurt her deeply; he had hurt everyone who loved him, his entire adoptive family. If Harry was alive somewhere, Ginny swore she would never, ever forgive him for that.
Now, Ron was awake again, speaking and walking and being an iunsufferable git, as usual. He would be leaving the hospital the very next day. He had been in the papers last week under the headline “Minister’s Son Makes Full Recovery”. There had been quotes from her father; pictures of Ron with his arms around two mediwizards, plastered across the front page of the Daily Prophet. There was an hour- long interview with a nervous sounding Ron on the WWN, for Merlin’s sake. And Harry still hadn’t materialized. The conclusion was clear - as unbelievable as it seemed, Harry was either too far enough away that he didn’t know, or worse, he no longer cared.
“I can’t believe he left without a bloody word to anyone. It’s not like him.”
Hermione sighed heavily, folding a wrinkled Chudley Cannons t-shirt and putting it neatly in Ron’s trunk- they were packing for Ron’s return home tomorrow. “I know, Ron. We all have trouble believing it.”
Ron wrinkled his brow. “Hermione, yesterday you mentioned there’s a very small chance that the Death Eaters who escaped Auror custody after the war could have kidnapped him. You said something about how it was unlikely, but no one has ruled it out completely.”
“I’ve ruled it out” Ginny said flatly. Ron looked at her quizzically.
“Honestly, Ron, the idiot took his bloody trunk with him,” she continued, trying to remain unflustered, but failing. spectacularly. “He sent his very distraught owl to live with Remus without so much as a letter. You don’t act like you’re off for some bloody tropical mini-break when Death Eaters are pointing their wands at your head. Harry would have fought back if someone had attacked him - there would have been some sign of a struggle. Harry was aware of his surroundings - he practiced constant vigilance - after what he went through in the war, there’s no chance someone would have taken him by surprise. He just left. It’s hard to believe, Ron, but that’s what happened and you’re going to have to wrap your head around it eventually.”
There was a long silence. Then, Hermione cleared her throat. “In my heart, as much as I hate to say it, I think Ginny’s right,” she said, quietly. "Harry packed up and left, and he’s made it apparent he doesn’t want us to find him."
“You can talk all you like, but I refuse to believe it,” Ron replied stubbornly, sitting on his bed.
"Neville and Luna were both dead. Your father was injured, as was Charlie. And with you being hurt on top of all of that... well, you know how he tortures himself," Hermione said, settling beside Ron and wrapping her arms around him.
Ron sighed. "Maybe he’ll come back now that I’m awake, and I can hex him into a bloody coma for a year.”
“You would not hex him, Ronald. You would welcome him back with open arms,” Hermione scolded. “We all would.”
Ron snorted. "I'll bet you a hundred galleons he's in Paris, or Spain, or on a beach in... oh, I dunno, somewhere bloody fantastic, and he’s knee-deep in loose witches, not caring that we're all worried-"
"I’ve got to go.” Ginny interrupted somewhat curtly, her hand already on the doorknob. She had reached her quota of Harry-talk for the day; if she heard his name one more time, she was sure she’d either burst into tears or start screaming - maybe both.
Her brother stopped his rant, suddenly , realizing what he had been saying. He looked at her sheepishly, worry in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Gin. That loose witches comment was daft.”
"It's okay, Ron,” Ginny said, softening a little. It wasn’t the comment that bothered her; it was the continued reality of Harry’s disappearance. She’d dealt with it already - it was too hard to relive that pain again.
“I’m just leaving because I've got to be somewhere. I’ll see you at home tomorrow morning?"
Hermione and Ron exchanged a look. “Sure. G'night, Ginny.”
“ ‘Night.”
Ginny shut the door behind her, trying not to cry as she walked back down the hallway towards the exit of St. Mungo's. She was thrilled to have her brother back fully and completely - it was nothing short of a miracle. But Ron was still in the early stages regarding Harry’s disappearance - he was in denial. Ginny knew denial - denial was easy, denial was tempting. Ginny wanted more than anything to believe that Harry was lost somewhere, thinking about her, wanting to be with her - but she couldn’t succumb to those empty hopes. Her whole life had been empty hope in Harry. It was time to move on.
"What’s with the long face, love?" Tonks, her hair long and coloured bright purple, appeared in front of Ginny, and wrapped her in a strong hug.
Ginny sighed against her friend's shoulder. "Thanks, Tonks."
"What’s wrong, Weasley?”
"Everything... well, nothing, really...”
“Oh, c’mon! You’ll feel better if you talk.”
Ginny pushed her hair behind her ears. Tonks was right.
“It’s just.. well, I know I'm going to sound horribly selfish, but it’s too hard re-opening these old wounds so Ron can know about all the sad and horrible stuff he missed. All the people he loved who are gone now..." Ginny said quietly.
“Harry?” Tonks asked quietly.
Ginny nodded.
“You have every right to be selfish where Harry’s concerned, that git,” Tonks reassured her friend, squeezing her shoulder.
Ginny nodded. "I guess so... You know, there’s that saying: time heals all wounds. I don’t know - maybe that saying is true in some cases, but sometimes, for a few moments, the pain comes back, just as fresh as it was last summer when he first left. Nothing has healed, the pain just disguises itself for awhile...”
“Oh, Ginny. It will get better. You just have to focus on what you have here, not what you’re missing.”
“I’m trying to,” Ginny agreed. “Most of the time, I’m so happy to have Ron back that I don’t care how much it hurts to talk about Harry. I’d sit there and discuss every painful secret I know in detail, just to know he’s finally able to hear and respond."
“You need to relax, Gin! Get out of this horrid place for a bit."
“I have been getting out. I’ve been practicing for Quidditch tryouts for six hours every bloody morning this week.” Ginny flopped into the plastic chair outside the nurses' station. “What are you doing here, anyways?”
Tonks settled in the chair beside Ginny, twisting a long strand of her purple hair around her finger. “One of the new Aurors hurt himself training today - I’m just checking up on him,” she replied. “My life’s nowhere near as exciting as yours... all this talk of professional Quidditch tryouts.”
“I don’t think I’m going to make it. But it’s fun to try.”
“Well, there’s always the Auror Academy. We’re taking five more recruits at the end of August - you’re a shoe-in.”
“I’ll consider it,” Ginny replied, stretching and stifling a yawn beside her hand. "In the meantime, I feel like I could sleep for a week. I'm going to look a sight tonight," she said, sticking her tongue out at her reflection in the glass.
"What's so special about tonight?"
"Nothing special. I'm just going out for dinner..."
“With who?”
“Oh, uh... just with Ollie.” Ginny kept her voice as nonchalant as possible.
Tonks stared at her, mouth agape. "Ollie? As in Oliver Wood, the famous Quidditch player who was at your parents’ over Christmas?"
“Yeah....”
"What... when in Merlin’s name did this happen?"
Ginny shrugged. "When did what happen?”
“You and this Oliver Wood thing!”
“There’s no thing, Tonks! We’ve just gone out a couple of times, had a few laughs. Oh, and he’s helping me train for Quidditch-”
“You went out a couple of times? What exactly does that mean?” Tonks was perched on the edge of her chair, studying her friend keenly. Ginny fought the urge to laugh.
“Well, we went out three times last week, and then twice the week before. But it’s just for tea-”
"And on top of this, you see him every bloody morning for six hours to play Quidditch?!”
“Yeah, but-”
“Merlin, Ginny, You're absolutely DATING him!" Tonks shrieked, clapping her hands. "Oh, and he's such a dish."
"Well, you know," Ginny shrugged, her face growing red. "I don't know whether going out here and there means we’re dating-"
"Sounds like Witch Weekly's Sexiest Bachelor of the Year is a bachelor no more!" Tonks teased. “Where’s he taking you tonight?”
"We're having dinner in Muggle London and then going to the theatre - wait, was he really the Sexiest Bachelor of the Year?" Ginny’s curiosity was piqued.
"He sure was!,” Tonks grinned conspiratorially. “You might think I'm nothing but a pervy old lady, Gin, but I have this picture from Witch Weekly posted in my cubby at work. It’s your boyfriend, standing in the locker room at Puddlemere wearing only a towel..." Tonks pretended to fan herself. "You are a lucky woman, and that is one dead sexy tattoo."
Ginny’s jaw dropped. "He's got a tattoo?"
Tonks smirked triumphantly. "So I’ll take it your relationship hasn't progressed to the 'seeing each other in towels' phase... well, strike out my next few questions."
Ginny burst into laughter. "You are pervy."
"Well, if I were in your shoes, I’d be getting in my share of towel time. And a lot of ‘“no towel’” time too, as a matter of fact." Tonks got up and did a crazy dance, miming a towel being ripped off.
Ginny was laughing so hard her side had started to cramp. "Never mind the theatre - I'll just bring you along tonight for entertainment."
"I'd drool all over your date - I don’t think Remus would approve,." Tonks replied cheekily.
“Maybe not, Mrs. No-Towel-Time."
Ginny could scarcely believe she’d almost been crying five minutes before. Trust a good friend to turn everything around in a moment.
“So, this Oliver is all right to you, yeah? You’d think a gorgeous bloke like him would be cheeky as hell."
"He's actually very down to earth. He knows he’s cute, I think, but he's not arrogant about it. He's... confident."
Tonks was smiling hugely. "Wow. It's brilliant to see you getting involved a relationship, Gin."
"Thanks. But I'm not sure it's the kind of relationship you think it is..."
"Oh, would you just shush up with that no-dating nonsense? You’re DATING him, Ginny. What else are you going to call it?" Tonks interrupted.
"Just two friends who are getting to know each other better," Ginny replied defensively.
Tonks looked at her for a moment searchingly, squeezing her hand.
"Let him in, Gin. What's the worst that could happen?"
Chapter 4: Chapter 3 - Joy
Author's Notes: I repeat again what I've been saying about the H/G lovefest which is forthcoming. Just stick with it, guys - I swear it's on it's way/ Or close your eyes and picture Oliver as Sean Biggerstaff (as Cel does) or David Beckham (as Ricky does) or Justin Timberlake or whoever it is that the kids are drooling over these days.
A GIGANTIC thank you to Cel for being such an excellent beta! She rocks!
And also to my good friend Ricky for being so hilarious and telling me to write this thing in the first place. Ricky is the inspiration behind how I characterize Tonks in my writing ie) Happiness - they're both nutcases and just way too much fun.
Chapter 3: Joy
The room was lit by a single candle. It floated beside one of the beds, casting a warm golden light over the only two occupants of the dormitory, who lay beneath the blanket, their limbs entangled. They had been sleeping at Hogwarts all week — The Burrow was no longer safe.
The young man stared up at the canopy of the girl’s bed sleeplessly, worry creasing his brow.
“I'm starting to get really scared, Gin."
"Starting to?" Ginny sat up against the headboard and looked sleepily at Harry. "You make it sound as though it's been a cakewalk up to this point."
“It has been, compared to what’s coming...”
He was right, of course. They had faced the Death eaters last week — they knew whee the Horcrux was, and it was heavily guarded. But it wasn’t impossible. They were all about to face a battle the likes of which no one had seen.
Harry continued quietly. “Everything we've done this year has this certain weight to it now. I'm carrying so much, we all are. I just don't want to be the one to drop something important."
"The only person you're going to drop is Voldemort." Ginny swallowed the lump in her throat, and tried her best to smile encouragingly. Tomorrow was the big day - they knew they'd catch him unaware — he’d never expect them to attack again so soon, not when losses were so high last time. Voldemort expected them to mourn, to take time to recover.
Ginny’s heart had been pounding all day long. Sleep did seem like a useless pursuit given the circumstances. She sighed. Why were they even pretending to sleep?
Harry reached up and tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. "I love you, Ginny."
"I love you too," Ginny whispered, curling her leg across his hips. She did love him, more than words could even begin to say. Their relationship was a secret, something conducted behind closed doors. Only Ron and Hermione knew what was happening between Ginny and Harry. Of course, Ginny’s parents suspected the break-up after Dumbledore’s death wasn’t permanent, but even they weren’t entirely sure. It was too dangerous.
Ginny sank into his arms and her mouth pulled gently at his lower lip. He sighed, pulling her against him.
“We should kiss each other all night long,” Harry whispered gravely.
“I think so too,” Ginny replied breathily.
“More important than sleep,” Harry whispered.
“Much more,” Ginny moaned as Harry’s mouth travelled voraciously across her neck. “But I think we should do other things besides kiss...”
Harry froze. “You mean...”
Ginny ran her hand down Harry's chest. "Yeah, I do.”
“Are you sure, Ginny? You’ve always said you wanted to wait -”
“We could both die tomorrow. Please, let's not wait anymore."
Her mouth pressed against his insistently, her lips stifling the moans that escaped his mouth when she touched him.
Soon, they were skin against skin, their bodies tangled in the clean white sheets.
"Ginny, when this is over I promise you we'll be together forever," Harry breathed. "I promise I'll never leave you."
"Forever," Ginny breathed, inhaling his earthy clean smell. "I can't wait."
***
The sound of a bell filled the quiet room and Harry was gone. Someone, someone who felt nothing like Harry, was reaching across Ginny's naked body to shut the alarm charm off.
"Good morning, baby." Ginny’s husband kissed her cheek.
Ginny rubbed at her eyes grumpily, and buried her face back in the pillow. "Just ten more minutes, mmmkay?"
"No time to sleep in, doll," he slowly kissed his way down her arm. "The match, remember?"
"Oh hell," Ginny sat up and yawned, looking at the clock. “I’ve got that interview with the Prophet before warm-up. I’m going to be so late.”
"I'll go make us some nosh, then... unless you want to practice some of your broom handling techniques," Oliver nuzzled closer, raising an eyebrow hopefully.
Ginny giggled and pushed him away. She couldn't - not after that dream. She knew it was only a memory, a shadow, but somehow Ginny still felt like she was being unfaithful. The guilt badgered her constantly. She tried to push it aside, smiling at Oliver.
"And give away all my secrets?" She kissed his forehead and got out of bed. "Besides, you'll see all my techniques up close and personal later today when I send that quaffle flying past your silly little head!"
"All your techniques, love?! During the game?! But won't it feel weird with everyone watching?" Oliver joked, as he got up and pulled on his robe.
"Is that really all you think about?" Ginny rolled her eyes.
"How can you blame me for being randy when I wake up beside my wife, and she's touching me with those incredible hands, some silly smile on her face," Oliver said, wrapping his arms around Ginny. "Having a nice dream, were you?"
"I don't remember," Ginny said, her face turning pink.
"Sure, you do," Oliver crooned, wrapping his arms around his wife and pulling her towards him. "And you're incredibly sexy when you blush. You know I love making you blush, the way you blush absolutely everywhere-"
"Honestly, Ollie, just look at the time. I've got twenty minutes until I'm supposed to be at warm-up!"
"Fine, fine," Oliver sighed, reluctantly releasing his wife, who dashed towards the bathroom. "I've got a few more minutes than you do - I'll get a quick bite ready."
"Thanks, love," Ginny yelled, over the sound of the running water, as she tried to wash the feeling of another man's body from her memory.
****
The reporter was a tall blonde Hufflepuff who had been two years ahead of Ginny at Hogwarts - she remembered the girl having a crush on George. She was happy to note the absence of a quick-quotes quill.
Transcript of interview with Ms. Ginervra Weasley, Chaser for Chudley Cannons, 18 May 2001
Why did you choose this career path?
I’ve been playing quidditch ever since I was a little girl - I guess my older brothers’ enthusiasm rubbed off on me. It's very challenging and as just as thrilling as it looks. I feel incredibly lucky to be able to do this full-time.
What's it like playing against your husband, Mrs. Wood?
That's Ms. Weasley, actually - I kept my name. And to answer your question, games against Puddlemere are exactly like any other games; Oliver is just any other Keeper, albeit an especially capable one. My focus remains firmly on the game, and on the goals of my team.
You don't think he's easier on you?
Uh... What do you mean?
Do you think he's ever given you an opportunity to score?
Absolutely not. Oliver is very dedicated to his job; he loves his team like family, and I know he wouldn't forsake them simply to make me feel good about myself.
You answered that question without any hesitation? How can you be so sure?
I've scored against Oliver in lots of games this season, and I know his keeping techniques inside out. I haven’t noticed him deviating from his usual patterns simply because I happen to be in possession of the quaffle.
He has patterns?
All Keepers do. Part of being a chaser is being able to identify those patterns and circumvent them.
So what's Mr. Wood like off the quidditch pitch?
He's hilarious. He definitely keeps me laughing. And to top it off, he's a fantastic cook - I'm a very lucky girl.
You certainly are. What are your future plans as Mr. and Mrs. Wood?
That's Mr. Wood and Ms. Weasley, remember. And our future together... well, that's a hard question. Oliver and I take things one day at a time; we both lived through a war, and that’s changed the way we look at life. We've recently purchased a lovely little home, and I know we'd like to have a family someday. We were just in Belize on our honeymoon, and I do think we'll look for opportunities to travel more in the off-season.
A whistle sounded in the distance.
"I'm leading warm-ups. Sorry to cut your interview short." Ginny smiled at the girl warmly.
"No problem. Thanks for your time." The reporter muttered the countercharm to her recording quill. "What would be a good time to reach your husband? I’d like to get a few quotes from him to round things out."
"You'll have to talk to his agent to schedule something, I'm afraid' Ginny replied over her shoulder, trying not to roll her eyes as the young witch's face fell. She was getting a little tired of being used by the wizarding media as a door to Oliver. Despite their marriage four months ago, Oliver was as much a sex symbol as ever. Ginny knew that without Oliver’s quotes, the interview she’d just given likely wouldn't be used anywhere.
Ginny tied her hair back into a tight bun and led the team on a few invigorating high speed loops around their home field. They split into groups to practice diving and catching drills. The Cannons had five-to-one odds against Puddlemere, but the team was at its’ peak. Ginny felt the familiar adrenaline begin to pump through her veins - she loved the swell of nervous excitement before a game. She looped around the pitch again and dived, doing a quick barrel roll, and suddenly her breakfast rose in her throat. She raced her broom to the edge of the field and dismounted before vomiting her breakfast all over the grass.
"Weasley, you okay?"
Ginny turned around to face her coach, and grinned apologetically, her face reddening with embarassment. "Too much at breakfast, I guess." She muttered a cleaning charm and mounted her broom again. "I'll be fine."
"Watson's already at the Puddlemere infirmary. You go on ahead and see him." Watson was the team medic. He'd already mended a few of Ginny's broken bones during her season with the Cannons.
"Honestly Coach, I don't need a mediwizard-"
"It's policy, Weasley," Coach Richards barked. "You're sick, you talk to Watson." The Coach’s voice softened a bit. "If it's just a wonky breakfast, he'll clear you quickly and you’ll be ready to go by the time we get there. We can't afford to be out our best Chaser versus Puddlemere."
"Alright," Ginny sighed, getting off her broom. "I'll catch up with you at Puddlemere, then."
The Puddlemere stadium was just beginning to fill with the first eager fans as Ginny Apparated at the VIP entrance. She walked down the long concrete hallway under the bleachers towards the Cannon’s dressing room, but Watson the medic was nowhere to be found. Ginny sat down on a bench to wait, frustrated at missing her warm-up.
Watson didn't reappear until the rest of her team had arrived and begun to change into their game robes. Five minutes before the game, he walked in, smiling nonchalantly at Coach.
"Bloody hell, man. Clear Weasley and quick. We need her in,” the Coach barked.
Watson raised his eyebrow, and pulled Ginny around the corner into the little infirmary.
"What's going on, Weasley? Sprain that left wrist again?"
"No, I threw up at warm-up. I ate breakfast too quickly, I think," Ginny said hurriedly, eyeing the clock on the wall. Four minutes to game time.
"I see... No queasiness now?"
"Nope - I feel just fine."
"Have you been experiencing any other nausea lately?"
"No. Wait - that’s not true... I threw up a few days ago. Once at lunch and then again a few hours later — I probably ate something that disagreed with me."
“Any cramps? Back pain?”
“Nope.”
"Okay. I’m sure it’s nothing. But I do need to run a couple of charms."
Ginny sighed, closing her eyes. This was good, actually, this small opportunity for peace and quiet before a big game. Time to mentally focus, to envision throwing that quaffle past Oliver. Right through the left ring - it was a small but consistent weakness of his-
"Well, you certainly won't be playing today," Watson said, humour tinging his voice.
"Bollocks! I feel just fine!” Ginny could not believe what she was hearing.
"Do you want the good news or not?"
"Oh, sod it all. My brother and Hermione are here today,” Ginny grumbled. “You can’t give me an anti-nausea charm or
something?”
Watson paused, the smile still on his face. "No, I can’t do anything about this particular problem. You're pregnant, Weasley."
Ginny snickered, standing up and pulling on her chaser’s gloves. "Oh, enough with the jokes, Watson. I have 2 minutes-"
"You’re pregnant. I wouldn't joke.”
Ginny simply stared at Watson.
“I did the maternity charm twice - there’s no doubt. Congratulations."
"Bloody hell," Ginny sank back down onto the infirmary bed.
Watson conjured her a glass of water. "You want me to do it again? So you can see the blue light?"
"No... I... It's okay."
Pregnant. They'd only been married for 4 months; and as far as Ginny could recall they'd only forgotten the contraceptive spell once. Apparently, once was all it took when your last name was Weasley.
"Tell Coach I have to go!" Ginny was out the door as fast as her legs would carry her.
"Tell me what?" her coach yelled after her. “Get back here, Weasley!”
Ginny ignored him, her feet pounding the pavement as she ran through the passage beneath the stadium towards the Puddlemere dressing room. Towards Oliver. She heard the crowd roar as Dave Adams flew out onto the pitch. Thank Merlin that W was at the end of the alphabet.
Oliver was silhouetted in the doorway, ready to mount his Cleansweep, when Ginny rounded the corner, completely
breathless, hot tears running down her cheeks.
Oliver's eyes widened in shock. "Gin, what the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be-"
The rest of his words were stifled by a very passionate kiss from his normally semi-inhibited wife. The reserve team,
waiting in the wings behind Oliver, hooted and hollered.
Oliver grinned at her, one eyebrow raised. "That was bloody brilliant, but why aren't you with your team?"
"I can't play the rest of the season. Medical slip.”
Oliver looked concerned. "I thought your wrist was healed-”
The deafening screams of the Puddlemere fans had been building. They knew the annoucement that was coming: "AND LAST BUT CERTAINLY NOT LEAST, THE LEAGUE'S MOST OUTSTANDING KEEPER, AND THREE-TIME LEAGUE MVP, OOOOOOLIVER WOOD!
"You're going to be a daddy!" Ginny screamed over the din of the crowd.
"You're going batty? What are you talking about, Gin?" Oliver stared at her in total confusion, swinging his leg back over his broom. "I've gotta get out there. We’ll talk later."
"Wait, silly!" Ginny grabbed the tail of Oliver's broom and yelled again. "I’m pregnant. You're going to be a daddy."
"What?" Oliver's face registered absolutely no expression. "This isn't a joke, is it?"
"Uh... I'm afraid not," Ginny’s heart was pounding. She swore she could hear it, even over the insanity of the hometown crowd.
"I... bloody hell,” Oliver rubbed his hands across his face. “I don't know what I'm supposed to say."
"OUR CAPTAIN MUST BE HAVING STAGE FRIGHT! PUDDLEMERE, YOU'VE GOT TO CHEER LOUDER THAN THAT IF YOU WANT WOOD."
The crowd screamed deafeningly, but neither Ginny nor Oliver seemed to notice. Ginny was staring at Oliver, who in turn was staring very hard at his broom handle, his face unreadable.
"So I take it you're not happy about this..." Ginny began, her voice shaky.
"Happy?" Oliver's broom clattered to the ground as he jumped off. As sudden as a bludger, he was hugging her, spinning her around in his arms. "Ginny, I'm so happy I can't even find the proper bloody words."
"Oh, thank Merlin!" Ginny realized she was crying. "Me too."
The crowd was chanting now, the echo of thousands of feet stomping the wooden stands. "WE WANT WOOD! WE WANT WOOD!"
"You and this baby are the best things that have ever happened to me," Oliver had to scream to be heard. His eyes were bright with excitement, the beginnings of tears.
“Wood! Stop making out with your wife and get out there!” someone yelled. Everyone laughed.
"Get your cute butt on that broom, daddy," Ginny hollered over the din. "We'll see you after the game."
The grin on Oliver's face was giddy as he climbed back onto his broom, still squeezing her hand.
"I love you so much, Ginny," he mouthed, his face suddenly becoming more serious than Ginny had ever seen it, even on their wedding day. Ginny wished she could hear his voice, but everything was just too loud.
"I love you too..."
Oliver let go of her hand as he kicked off and rocketed into the stadium, turning around to blow her a kiss, his dirty blonde hair rippling in the breeze. The crowd went so crazy Ginny actually had to press her hands against her ears.
Everyone loved Oliver Wood.
Chapter 5: Chapter 4 - Pain
Author's Notes: *sniffle* possible kleenex warning.
"Mum, are you here?" Ginny yelled, kicking off her shoes.
"Ginny!' Her mother appeared in the doorway of the Burrow kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. "I thought the game had started already - I was about to turn on the wireless."
"It has-"
"Why are you wearing your uniform, dear? Are you reserve today?" Mr. Weasley rounded the corner, looking at her curiously in her orange and white game robes.
"Mum, Dad, sit down please." Ginny put her arms around her parents and pushed them towards the couch, a grin curling the corners of her mouth. Her parents always expected bad news - but this... this was way beyond good news.
"Oliver hasn't been injured, has he?" Mrs. Weasley shrieked, waving her wand at the wireless, which jumped to life: "And Wood saves yet another one - that man is on fire this morning, folks. He's passing it out to Herrington, now Langley, and — oooh! a gorgeous steal by Blake Wakely of the Cannons-"
"Obviously, he's quite all right, Mum," Ginny replied with a smirk, turning the volume back down to a dull whisper by twisting her wand in the direction of the wireless.
"Why aren't you playing, dear? Did you quit?"
"Oh, Mum!"
"You don't like playing against Oliver anymore. That’s good, dear... not wanting to throw things at your husband is very healthy... at least, I think it’s healthy-"
"It has nothing to do with that!" Ginny laughed.
"You're not ill, are you?" Mrs. Weasley made to feel Ginny's forehead, but she ducked away, still laughing.
“She wouldn’t be laughing if it were bad news. Let the poor child speak, dear,” Arthur intoned mildly.
Her mother tutted and sat down, looking at Ginny expectantly. "What's gone wrong, then?"
"Nothing at all’s wrong. I'm pregnant-"
Before Ginny could finish what she was saying, both her parents had buried her in a bear hug.
'Oh Arthur, our baby girl is making us grandparents! How incredible!"
"This is such wonderful news, darling," her father said, tears glistening in his eyes.
"Oh, Ginny!" Her mother looked at her proudly, tears welling up in her eyes. "Oliver must have been so excited!"
"He really was,” Ginny smiled and squeezed her mother’s hand.
“That little room at the top of the stairs at your place will be wonderful for a nursery! You’ll paint it blue... and you can have the cradle your grandfather made.”
“Blue? What if it’s a girl?”
Mrs. Weasley looked at her daughter as though what she had said was impossible. "Oh darling, I have the loveliest yarn for a little baby blanket and some booties at the back of the closet," Molly crowed, dashing up the stairs. "I've been saving it for ages-"
"That baby will have a whole wardrobe before you can even do the gender charm," her father said, smiling widely and hugging her again. "You've made us very proud, Ginevra Molly."
"Thank you, Daddy." Ginny whispered, tears stinging her eyes. "I should really get back to Puddlemere and watch the game. I just had to sneak away to tell you - I absolutely couldn't wait - but I should really be there with my team."
"Very responsible of you, dear. I'll tell your mum - I've sure she'll be busy most of the afternoon hauling down a bushelful of pastel woolen bits anyways."
"Oliver and I will stop in after the game... And thanks, Dad."
"See you later. And be careful, dear.”
The last thing Ginny saw as she twisted her wand to Apparate was her father, waving his wand casually at the wireless, settling back onto the old sofa. She re-appeared back at the players' door at Puddlemere, and rushed towards the pitch. Something in the air was different - something was wrong. It was quiet - so quiet she could actually hear her footsteps echo on the brick passageway. The game couldn’t be over... she’d only been gone for 10 minutes. She rushed forward, hearing people in the stands above her muttering and fidgeting - the game had most certainly been stopped - but there was no cheering, no booing either, no announcer’s voice chiming in to explain the delay.
"Weasley! There you are!" Ginny spun to face her coach, and the look on his face stopped her cold. There was only one reason a Quidditch game would be stopped.
"Your husband. He’s had a Bbludger to the back of the head-"
Ginny turned around, to run away, to find him, to do something, and fell into her father’s arms.
****
"Ginny, you look wonderful."
"Thank you, Hermione," Ginny laughed and spun around, the mermaid style skirt of the wedding gown swirling and rippling around her ankles. "I feel like a princess."
"That's the dress, then?"
"I think so. I’d like something simple.”
"I agree...”
"Well, that bit’s settled then," Ginny waltzed back into the dressing room , and started to change back into jeans and a sweater.
Hermione’s voice floated over the changing room door. "This is only the first dress shop we've been to. You don't want to try anything else?"
"I don't think so," Ginny emerged, the dress floating gracefully behind her, holding its shape as though she was still wearing it. "I really do like this one. Why bother mussing about?"
As she paid, Ginny could sense her sister- in- law eyeing her curiously. She's going to lecture me about something, I can feel it, Ginny thought. Spending too much money? But really, the dress was quite reasonable. Maybe she shouldn't have chosen such a bright blue for Hermione's dress - but how could anyone dislike blue?
The salesgirl shrunk the package to a reasonable size and the girls left the store with only one small bag.
Hermione sighed, and Ginny steeled herself for a sisterly lecture on saving money.
"Ginny, promise you won't think I'm meddling if I ask you about something that’s been bothering me-"
Ginny grinned. "Well Hermione, you've caught me in a remarkably good mood, so you can probably say what’s on your mind."
"I’m concerned because I noticed that you seem to be making decisions rather quickly lately. The dress, for example - you picked the first thing you tried, which is unlike you. You love shopping, Gin — I’d have expected you to try every dress in that store. That’s just one example-"
"Well, I like this dress. I know what I want, and this dress is the one." Ginny interrupted defensively.
"It's more than just the dress, Gin." Hermione glanced over at her uncomfortably. "This whole wedding thing - It just seems to be happening very quickly.”
"Oliver wanted to have the wedding before Quidditch season, which is smart scheduling for both of us. We'll even have time for a honeymoon.”
"Two weeks is rather rushed to be planning any event, let alone a wedding, Ginny. You’re not..." she looked at Ginny curiously.
"No, I'm not pregnant, Hermione." Ginny said curtly. "Is that what everyone thinks?"
"No, of course not! It's just that you two have moved rather slowly these past months. And then Oliver proposes, and suddenly, you're all in a panic -— ‘when's the absolute soonest we can have this wedding?’ It’s unlike you, Ginny.”
“We have to do things quickly,” Ginny said, frustration evident in her voice. “As I said, neither of us wants conflicts with Quidditch season.”
“So why not wait until the season closes?”
“Why not do it before Quidditch season opens?” Ginny retorted.
“Because you're barely giving yourself any time to think about what you're doing!"
"Is there something wrong with what I'm doing, Hermione?" Ginny yelled, exasperated. "Because last time I checked, everyone in this bloody family adores Ollie."
"Ginny, I just want what's best for you-"
"I know what’s best for me," Ginny said, pulling out her wand. "Excuse me, I'm going home."
Ginny re-appeared in her bedroom at the Burrow, fuming. She dropped her package on the bed, put her hands over her face and groaned. Wasn’t the bride supposed to be the one with cold feet, not the bridesmaid? Oliver was perfect. Absolutely perfect in every way. And he loved her and she loved him. The sooner the better, as far as Ginny was concerned.
There was a tentative knock at her bedroom door. Ginny swung the door open, her arms crossed over her chest stubbornly, expecting Hermione.
“Hey gorgeous,” Oliver leaned against the door frame and grinned. “What’s the grumpy face for?”
Ginny stomped back into the bedroom and flopped on the bed. She knew she couldn’t tell him what Hermione had just said. He would just be offended.
“I’m just stressed out, Ollie. All this wedding stuff.”
“Don’t get bogged down in details, love. All that matters is we get married.” Oliver flopped down beside her, interlacing his hand with hers.
Ginny sighed. “You’re right, of course.”
“We can still move the date back if you’d like to - the invitations are out, but who’s to say we can’t send new ones?”
“No, I really want to do this now,” Ginny said.
“You know what I’d really like to do right now?”
Ginny giggled as Ollie attacked her neck. Her eyes skimmed across her alarm clock and she shrieked, pushing him away.
“Ollie, you’re thirty minutes late for your dress robe fitting!”
“Oh bollocks, you’re right.” Oliver reluctantly got up from the bed, and with a long sigh, kissed Ginny’s cheek. “See you tonight, then?”
“Sure,” Ginny replied distractedly. Ollie’s mention of invitations had reminded her of a few she’d forgotten to owl. She made mental note of it as Oliver squeezed her hand, and Disapparated with a crack.
A second later came a knock at the door. Ginny knew that this time, it would be Hermione.
“Come in!”
“I’m sorry, Ginny. Perhaps I should have approached this differently,” Hermione sighed, entering the room and perching on the edge of Ginny’s bed. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to attack you or anything.”
“Oh, never mind that,” Ginny settled beside her friend and raked her hands through her hair, her anger gone. “I’m sorry I’m so frazzled about this wedding.”
“I should have been more understanding. I remember what it was like when Ron asked me to marry him,” Hermione said, squeezing her friend’s hand, her eyes sparkling. “The passion and excitement. It’s something indescribable. That overwhelming, wonderful feeling. It’s like nothing else matters except each other, as though you’re the only two people in the whole world. You know what I mean, of course...”
“Of course.” Ginny wasn’t entirely sure, but it certainly sounded lovely.
“I’m sure if Ron and I had the chance, and if the war wasn’t looming over our heads, we’d have rushed too.”
“You think so?”
“I think it’s probable...” Hermione said, a goofy grin on her face. “It would have made sense to us,” Hermione smiled. “I know you feel the same way, Ginny, and I should have been more understanding.”
Ginny hugged her friend tightly, burying her face in Hermione’s hair.
The sound of a crash drifted up from the kitchen, followed by an exclamation. “Bloody hell!”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “And off I go to catch my husband raiding his mother’s fridge yet again!!”
Ginny giggled as Hermione left her room and tiptoed down the stairs. She distracted herself from the strange feeling Hermione’s words had left in her stomach by unpacking her dress and putting it in her closet under a concealment charm, on the off chance Ollie was snooping.
Ginny looked out the winodw. The sun was just setting, casting a gentle orange glow over the meadow. Ginny forced herself to stop thinking about her to-do list for a few minutes, and took a few deep breaths, watching the sun sink beneath the horizon.
The passion and excitement. The feeling that you were the only two people in the whole world. She felt that, didn’t she? Ollie was her best friend, her confidante, her favorite person. He understood her so well that sometimes he knew what she would say before the words left her lips. And she was attracted to him - his deep grey eyes, his chiseled features, the laugh lines around his eyes. He was amazing. There was no reason why she should have doubts, why anyone would have any doubts - her parents were living proof that a couple needed to be best friends before anything else to make a marriage work. She and Ollie and her had that, and so much more. They loved each other. She found security and comfort with Ollie - that meant far more than passion and excitement anyhow.
And Ollie so wanted to marry her. He wanted to build her a house and hold her hand through good times and bad. He wanted her just the way she was.
Life with Ollie was going to be perfect. Ginny could feel it in her bones as she watched the sun set over the snow- covered hills.
******
Five months later, Ginny stood in exactly the same spot in her old bedroom. This time, she watched the sun rise, her hand pressed against her still-flat stomach. The black dress was carefully pressed, laid out on her childhood bed, which hadn't been slept in.
Downstairs, Ginny heard her mother in the kitchen, fussing over food, sniffling occasionally. There would be reporters at the funeral; there would be crowds upon crowds of people crying. Everyone loved Oliver Wood. People would look at her, pity her, even more when they found out about the baby. The thought made her feel even more ill, her stomach turning over. There would be newspaper headlines for weeks and weeks, photos of her in black, photos of her dead husband's smiling face, over and over, like torture.
Guilt and a hot seething anger flooded every inch of her body. She was angry at Ollie for not being careful, but more than that, she was angry with herself.
Perhaps if she had loved him more... but she was being silly, of course.
She had loved her husband with everything she had left.
Chapter 6: Chapter 5 - Birthday
Chapter 5 - BirthdayGinny put the nappy bag in her old bedroom and ran back down to the kitchen, grabbing a piece of toast from the table. Her 18-month-old son was already making a huge mess in the high chair, his hands in his cereal. He cooed at his mum as she walked over and kissed his forehead.
“You be good while mummy’s gone, Ollie.”
“No no no!” The baby chanted his favorite word.
“He’ll be an angel for grandma, as usual,” Mrs. Weasley crooned, running a cool hand across little Ollie’s pudgy cheek. The little boy squealed happily, and waved his dirty hand in the air at his mum, who was pulling her summer cloak over her shoulders.
“I’ll be back before dinner,” Ginny said, looking at her son longingly. “No, maybe sooner. How about I check in on him in a couple of hours? You’ll need a break by then, won’t you?”
“You don’t have to check in, dear. It’s your birthday. Go have fun.” Mr. Weasley said as he walked into the kitchen in his robe and slippers, kissing his daughter on the forehead.
“But I miss him when I leave,” Ginny whinged, pouting as she looked over at her son, who was throwing porridge across the room.
“Buh-Bye Momma!” Ollie yelled, blowing kisses.
“Bye, sweetie.” Ginny whispered as her parents shooed her out the door. Ollie was such a good natured little boy - he hardly ever cried, even when she had to leave him. She usually only left for a few hours at a time - the length of a quidditch match or a practice - rarely for a whole day like she was planning on doing today. Ginny Apparated away from the Burrow, knowing she’d left her son in the best of hands, but feeling guilty for being excited about the little glimpse of single girl freedom a day away from her son would bring.
Ginny Apparated outside the Leaky Cauldron, where she was supposed to meet Tonks for an day of fun. They had no set plans - you didn’t need to a set schedule for fun when you were with Nymphadora Tonks - fun just ended up finding you.
“So what’s first on the agenda, birthday girl?” Tonks waltzed up to Ginny, a huge grin on her face. Long, thick platinum tresses made her almost unrecognizable - Ginny was so used to her outlandish pink and purple hues.
“I have no clue, Tonks, though we should probably do something especially scandalous,” Ginny remarked with a giggle, linking arms with her friend.
Tonks looked thoughtful. “You’re right - its not too often we both get baby-free days.” Tonks and Remus’ 15 month old daughter Gemma was with her dad for the day.
“My thoughts exactly!” The two girls had started to meander aimlessly towards the doors to the pub.
“I’ve got it! First, we go to Madame Malkins and buy their most scandalous robes! Then we go to the Cauldron and get right tossed!”
“Tossed? I don’t think so. It’s not even noon.”
“Lunchtime! You’re hungry, yeah?” Tonks looked at her friend excitedly.
“A little...”
“Let’s nosh, then!” Tonks was pulling her through the swinging doors of the Cauldron before she could even reply.
An hour and a half later they emerged into the summer sunshine, a slight rosy tinge on their cheeks.
“Three cocktails is three too many for lunch, Tonks.”
“Not for a birthday lunch!”
“I don’t do this sort of thing! Letting blokes buy me drinks!”
“Neither do I!’ Tonks proclaimed, a giant grin on her face. “Who was that Watson bloke, anyhow?”
“Oh, just a friend from Chudley. He’s the team medic.”
“A special friend?” Tonks raised her eyebrow.
Ginny giggled. “Nope, just the regular sort!”
“Maybe we need to find you a special friend...” Tonks paused and eyed the door of the pub again. “What’s saying we
hang around for another drink or two?”
Ginny laughed and tried to change the subject. “But you were saying something about shopping!!”
Tonks grabbed her friend’s shoulder in excitement. “Yes! I was thinking that you should go into muggle London with that muggle money you’ve got, and buy something really amazing. Something just for yourself that you absolutely, under no circumstances, would ever need! A dress! Or fancy shoes!”
“Where am I going to wear a fancy dress?”
“On a date!”
“A date!” Ginny scoffed. “With who?”
“Oh, who cares who! Just buy the dress and see what happens! You’ll feel so much better about yourself blokes will be asking you out left, right and centre!”
“It sounds fun... but it’s such a silly waste of money!”
“It is not! You need to pamper yourself some, Gin.” Tonks was already pulling the unwilling redhead back through the pub, towards the door facing muggle London. “When was the last time you bought yourself a dress?”
“My wedding...”
Tonks looked at her significantly.
“Oh, fine.” Ginny sighed, transfiguring her robes into a muggle-style sweater as her giddy friend skipped out the front door of the pub, headed towards the nearby London Underground station.
Ginny enjoyed riding the Underground, the hustle and bustle and jerking of the train as it stopped and distracted looking muggles got on and off. To Tonks, the whole system was old hat; she’d travelled extensively throughout London on the Underground with her father.
The two women got off at Bond Street and walked towards Carnaby, looking curiously in shop windows. There was a travel vendor’s shop on a busy corner and they both looked in amused dismay at the pictures of airplanes displayed in the window.
“Imagine! Flying in that great metal box! What genius thought of that?” Tonks whispered.
“Oooh - but this looks lovely!” Ginny smiled at a picture of the sun setting over a tranquil beach.
“Let’s go!” The light had turned to green, and Tonks and Ginny ran across the street to the first little boutique on Carnaby.
After several minutes browsing in various stores, Ginny saw the perfect dress in the window of a little shoppe - a strapless black dress with green florals that twisted and danced around the skirt. Tonks and Ginny entered the crowded store, and asked the saleslady for Ginny’s size.
“It fits!” Ginny told her friend from inside the curtained changeroom. “But I dunno - maybe it’s too short. I’ve got chubby kneecaps!”
“Oh, sure you do! Come out and show me!” Tonks replied.
Ginny emerged in the dress, spinning around to show Tonks the way the skirt rippled.
“Other than my kneecaps, I like it. What do you think?”
Tonks didn’t answer. She was staring over Ginny’s shoulder wordlessly, a completely unscrutable look on her face.
Then Ginny saw him, reflected in the mirror in front of her. He was standing just a few meters away, leaning against a rack, a shopping bag in his hand. Ginny’s skin went cold, as she turned around, finding herself standing face to face with someone she’d thought she’d never see again.
“Harry?”
Chapter 7: Chapter 6 - Flicker
Chapter 6: FlickerHarry Potter leaned casually against the metal rack, looking past Ginny out the window to the street.
“Harry?” Ginny whispered.
She touched the man’s arm and he turned to face her. Those familiar warm green eyes, two pools of purest emerald. Cold and hot flooded Ginny’s chest at the same time. She thought she was going to black out. Harry blinked once, slowly. Ginny could see the thoughtful intensity in his face, the concentration, as though he was trying desperately to remember something. Her face was mirrored in his eyes.
“Sorry, but do I know you?” Harry asked politely.
“Harry.” Ginny croaked, forcing herself not to start crying. “Where have you been?” She stared up at the lightning bolt-shaped scar on Harry’s forehead, although she didn’t need the proof. Of course it was him. His hair was cut differently and he wasn’t wearing his glasses, but there wasn’t the slightest doubt in Ginny’s mind.
“I’m afraid you have me mistaken for someone else. My name’s Sean. Sean Collins,” he nodded politely.
Ginny looked over at Tonks, who was now standing at Ginny’s right shoulder, staring open-mouthed at Harry’s scar. Harry continued to smile, his eyes betraying only the slightest confusion as to why these two odd women were gawking at him.
A girl approached and, as though it was coming through a thick haze, Ginny thought she heard her clear her throat.
Ginny yanked her eyes away from Harry to look over at the girl, a little redhead, who linked her arm with Harry’s and smiled at them both somewhat smugly.
Suddenly Tonks seized Ginny’s arm. “Uh, sorry about that. Mistake, is all. Time to change, Gin.”
Ginny was still staring wordlessly at Harry as Tonks dragged her into the change room. The curtain fell closed and Ginny blinked, feeling as though she’d just woke up from a strange dream. She looked over at Tonks, who was peering through the crack in the curtain, her wand drawn.
“It’s him?” Ginny asked in a flat whisper as she yanked off the dress and struggled back into her jeans. She knew it was Harry - every inch of her body screamed it - but she needed to hear it, for someone else to validate that she wasn’t going totally batty.
“’Course it’s him, or someone doing a damn good job with polyjuice...” Tonks whispered, peeking out the edge of the curtain. “And he’s leaving. We have to follow.”
Tonks tapped Ginny’s head with her wand. Ginny felt the strange numbing tickle of the disillusionment charm creep over her. Ginny knew she’d be almost unnoticeable by wizards, and almost totally invisible to muggles. As Ginny watched, Tonks’ hair changed from blonde to mousy brown, her nose growing slightly longer. The two girls left the store as quickly as they could and rushed out to the street. Harry and the girl were about a block ahead. They rushed through the crowd towards him.
“Follow them, Gin. I’m going to get reinforcements!” Tonks whispered.
“Reinforcements?” Harry was stopped just metres ahead at a traffic light. The girl beside him was laughing at something he was saying.
“I’m getting some more Aurors, silly!” Tonks hissed. “This could be some crazy dark plot... Harry Potter showing up after a suspiciously long absence, not knowing his own name. I think there’s a good possibility that if that’s Harry, his memory has been altered - but we need to be certain.”
“But... ”
“This is could be some plot to mislead you, Ginny. Perhaps it’s someone who’s drank Polyjuice.”
“It’s not,” Ginny watched the man in front of her push his long fringe out of his face, each gesture so perfectly Harry. There was absolutely no question. It was him.
Tonks pressed her wand into Ginny’s shoulder as they moved forward. “I’m casting a tracking charm so we can find you. In the meantime, don’t lose sight of him, Gin! And keep your wand at the ready!”
“Okay...” Ginny replied shakily as Tonks whipped down an alley in search of a safe place to Disapparate.
Harry was about a half-block ahead of her, and Ginny watched him stroll down the busy street, laughing and talking with the girl beside him. They turned off the busy street and continued walking, past a series of apartment buildings. Suddenly, they ducked into a little coffee shop. Ginny stood outside, watching as Harry and the girl waited in the short queue. The girl touched Harry, her hand on his lower back as she leaned against him just slightly. Though innocent, the touch conveyed some level of intimacy, and a hot bolt of something like jealousy shot through Ginny’s heart. How dare she touch Harry that way!
But he wasn’t Harry. Not really. If what Tonks had said was true, if Harry was indeed under some sort of memory charm, he might actually believe he was this Sean Collins bloke. He had probably built a life as that person. He didn’t recognize his own name; he didn’t recall Ginny. This girl was his new girlfriend.
A memory charm? It made sense. Ginny watched nervously as Harry and the girl sat down at the table near the window. She felt self-conscious being so close, although she knew the disillusionment charm was still in effect. She couldn’t stop staring at him. It was as though her eyes were trying to find something about the man in front of her that wasn’t Harry, as though she wanted an imposter. As though she was in a dream she couldn’t wake up from.
Harry’s hand curled tightly around the cup of coffee. His eyes crinkled when he laughed, which was often. The frequent laughter - that was something different about him. He was wearing his hair longer - it brushed the collar of his shirt. He was still slim, but he looked well-muscled beneath his black t-shirt - fit, toned muscles like a quidditch player. The way he moved, the way he stirred his coffee, the impatient way his fingers drummed the table - it was all so Harry. Watching him made Ginny’s chest ache - she wasn’t breathing properly. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to take two deep breaths.
When she opened her eyes, he laughed again, and Ginny wished desperately that she could hear what he was saying. But... of course if she wanted to, she could. She had a set of extensible ears somewhere in her handbag. Before she could think twice about it, she’d found them and was placing one end against the glass - was it okay to be eavesdropping? Did she really want to hear what Harry was talking about with his girlfriend?
“... and then Becky said I wasn’t to tell him anything! How is that fair?” The girl had a strange accent, possibly American, Ginny guessed.
“Steve will be surprised, then, won’t he?” Harry’s voice was exactly the same as it had ever been. He even sounded a little bored with the girl's topic of conversation. Ginny couldn't help but feel some relief at that.
The girl nodded and sipped her coffee, staring out the window for a moment, straight through Ginny. Ginny studied her face closely - this girl did bear a slight resemblance to her. They could almost be sisters.
“So what was with the girl in the dress shoppe, Sean?” The girl piped up.
“You mean that redhaired girl and her friend who thought they knew me?”
“She called you Larry.” The girl snickered. She seemed to think this hilarious. Her laugh reminded Ginny a little of Pansy Parkinson.
“It was Harry, actually,” he corrected.
“You are so not a Harry or a Larry.”
“That’s because I’m a Sean” he chuckled, sipping his tea. Now it was his turn to stare out the window. Although she knew he couldn’t see her, she shivered.
Harry smiled at the girl across from him. “The odd thing is that I really thought I recognized her for just a second. I just couldn’t for the life of me place from where or when.”
“Because she looks like me?” The girl said, tossing her red hair over her shoulder.
“I don’t think so.” Harry shrugged. “Maybe we knew each other in a past life or something.”
“Do you actually believe in that stuff?”
Harry shrugged mysteriously. “Perhaps.”
Someone tapped Ginny on the shoulder and she startled, her wand drawn reflexively as she spun around.
“Just us,” Tonks said, indicating Kingsley and another Auror standing behind her. All three were disillusioned - Ginny could see them as vague outlines standing beside her.
“Nice reflexes, Ginny,” Kingsley said, seemingly impressed by Ginny’s quick-draw wand handling.
“Thanks,” Ginny replied somewhat curtly. “Harry’s inside drinking tea.”
Kingsley looked in the window. A muscle in his jaw twitched when he saw Harry. He looked over at Ginny seriously, his slight shock reflected in his brown eyes.
“I know, Kingsley. What are we going to do?”
“We’ll know if it’s really him when we approach him. If it’s someone who is using polyjuice, chances are they’ll run - there are two teams of aurors around the block, waiting to stop him if that happens. If he doesn’t run, Tonks and I will walk right up to them and stun them,” Kingsley replied.
“We’ll disillusion them both so no muggles will see us, and we’ll get the girl back to her home, safe and sound,” Tonks said. “Harry’s going to be taken to the Ministry, and we’ll make sure it’s really him and not some fantastically accurate doppelganger...” Tonks was peering through the window at Harry and his girlfriend, who were just getting up.
“They’re leaving. Let’s go, boys.”
They stood quietly, casually, outside the building as Harry and his girlfriend passed. Tonks and Kingsley casually strolled after them, turning down a sidestreet. Ginny followed at a distance to watch as the two Aurors stunned Harry and the girl and immediately disillusioned them. If any passersby were to have seen them, Ginny knew they’d have been Obliviated, but fortunately the street was quiet. Tonks found the redhead’s address in her handbag, and putting her arm around the girl, side-along Apparated her to her nearby flat.
Kingsley smiled at Ginny comfortingly, his arms holding a stunned Harry upright. “It’s okay, Weasley. Follow us. We’re headed to Investigation Room #4, MLES.” The two Aurors Disapparated with Harry.
Ginny twisted her wand and Apparated to the lobby at the Ministry, heading to the elevators and straight up to Room #4. Her heart was beating like a drum in her ribcage. It still felt like a dream, Ginny thought, as she got off the elevator and found the room she was looking for. She pushed through the swinging doors.
Harry lay face up on a bed in the corner of the plain room. He was covered by a blanket, asleep. A team of Aurors surrounded him, running diagnostic charms. Mad-Eye Moody was staring at Harry’s scar, an indistinguishable look on his face.
“It’s really him, Ginny,” Tonks was suddenly beside her, squeezing her hand. “The girl he was with is safe at home, sleeping off the stunner.”
Ginny nodded. There was nothing else to say.
“So, you two girls found our long-lost hero, did you?” Mad-Eye stood in front of them, anger in his eyes. “Someone’s been mucking with his memory, of course. He’s been Obliviated, likely more than once. Poor bloke probably has no clue who he really is.”
Ginny felt like she was going to throw up.
“He didn’t recognize his name. Or Ginny’s face,” Tonks furthered quietly.
“Not a good sign,” Mad-Eye shook his head. “We probably shouldn’t be taking risks if he didn’t recognize you. We’ll run a few more tests. We might return him to the life he’s living now. Maybe someone can visit him in a few weeks and try to explain to him what’s happened, who he really is.”
“Do you think he’d believe it?” Tonks asked.
Mad-Eye shrugged. “I suppose we’ll find out.”
Ginny stood in stunned silence, staring blankly at the side of Harry’s face. It was really him.
Mad-Eye followed her gaze and sighed heavily. “If there was even a tiny something left, a flicker of recognition, there’d be hope that we could restore some of the memories - not all, but some. But we can’t risk damaging his mind any further-”
“But - I mean - there was a flicker!” Ginny interrupted.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean... I think there was a flicker. When he first saw me. It seemed as though he recognized me, something in his eyes - I could almost see him trying to place me, trying to figure out where he knew me from. And then, when he was sitting at the coffee shop, I heard him tell his friend that I was familiar somehow.”
“What were his exact words, Ms. Weasley?” The old auror’s good eye narrowed.
Ginny took a deep breath. “He said he thought he recognized me, but he couldn’t quite remember from where or when. Like we’d known each other in a past life.”
The room went silent for a moment.
“Is that a flicker?” Ginny asked quietly. No one answered her.
“You know, his girlfriend looked a lot like Ginny,” Kingsley finally said, turning to Ginny. “You were dating when he disappeared, weren’t you?”
“Uh, yes... we were.”
Kingsley and Mad-Eye exchanged a significant look.
Mad-Eye cleared his throat. “Well. I’ll call in some Mediwizards and Obliviators and get their opinions. We can’t be too careful here. Also, there’s that Untouchable who works with memory charms in the Brain Room. What’s his name again?”
“Turner, I believe,” the young Auror who’d been with Kingsley provided.
“Well, don’t just stand there! Go find him!” Mad-Eye barked. The young man scurried off as Mad-Eye turned to survey Ginny once again.
“Your brother’s wife, the Granger girl, she works in neurological magic?” Mad-Eye inquired.
“She does. She’d be at my parents by now. Shall I go get her?”
“I think that might be useful. If we’re going to try this, I want her to stand by.”
Ginny nodding, turning to leave, but Kingsley put a hand on her shoulder.
“Ginny, it’s very important that you only tell your family that Harry’s back. I think this should be kept under wraps. I don’t want the Daily Prophet harassing Harry while he’s trying to sort out this memory stuff.”
“Of course,” Ginny nodded, managing a smile.
“Ginny?” Tonks asked, a worried look on her face. “We think your presence here might help trigger memory retrieval. Can you hurry back?”
“I’ll try. I’ll have to bring Ollie though.”
Tonks nodded. “Of course. Bring Ron too!”
Ginny nodded. Harry would definitely remember Ron. No memory charm could erase what those two had been through together.
Tonks squeezed her hand. “Are you okay, Gin? You look pale.”
“I’m just shocked, I think,” Ginny shook her head and tried to laugh, but it sounded hollow, even to her own ears. “Some birthday, huh?”
Tonks gave her friend a tight hug. “It will be if we can get our Harry back.”
***
An hour later, the entire Weasley family had assembled in the tiny lobby of the MLES, Ginny’s birthday dinner abandoned before it had even begun. The happiness and relief everyone felt knowing Harry’s whereabouts competed with a general undercurrent of worry and confusion. Who had done this to Harry? Would he ever remember his life? And what would happen if he didn’t?
Ginny hadn’t mentioned Harry’s girlfriend - she’d just told them that Harry was shopping with a friend when they saw him. They’d find everything out soon enough, Ginny thought, shifting in her chair uncomfortably.
Ginny bounced her giggling son on her knee and tried not to feel guilty about Harry. They’d made the correct decision, following him, bringing him here. But Ginny couldn’t stop thinking about Harry’s girlfriend. She imagined her waking the next morning and trying to reach her boyfriend, only to realize he’d left without a trace of his whereabouts or motive. It was the same way he’d left her. She acutely remembered how that abandonment had felt. How deeply it had hurt her, how it had damaged her self-esteem, how, despite her happiness with Oliver, she had never gotten over Harry completely, her mind full of what-ifs.
Maybe she should have stopped following him, lost him in the crowd, let him walk off with his new girlfriend to live a normal life. A normal life. It was all Harry Potter had ever wanted and it looked very much like he’d been well on the way to achieving it.
But what could be done now? If they did manage to return Harry’s memories to him, if he remembered how horrible his life as a wizard had been - filled with death and fear and disappointment - wouldn’t he want his muggle life back?
Ginny hugged Ollie and kissed his red curls. No one would force Harry to choose a life he didn’t want to lead. She’d swore to herself that she’d stick around that ward until he recovered his memory. If Harry came to and realized he wanted to leave the wizarding world, she’d be there to help him, even if no one else wanted to listen. Even if it was the hardest thing she’d ever done.
“How’s my nephew doing?” Ron plopped down beside her. He’d just been in to see Harry, who was still asleep.
“He’s getting tired. I’m going to have to head home soon.”
“Let Mum take him, Gin. You should be here, just in case.”
“I know,” Ginny replied quietly, fiddling with Ollie’s t-shirt. “How are things going in there?”
“They’ve started trying to break through the Memory Charms, very carefully. Hermione says it’s going well thus far.”
“You mean it’s actually working?”
Ron shrugged. “Well, there’s no success yet, but that’s because they’re being cautious. They don’t want to damage his memory with
magic that’s too strong.” Ron rubbed his hand across his face nervously. “The Obliviators say Harry’s skills with occlumency might just have saved him. Tougher nut to crack than most, I guess.”
“But he was horrible with his occlumency!” Ginny remembered urging Harry to practice time and time again, to little avail.
“Well, I guess whatever skill he’d developed was better than nothing.”
Ollie yawned and rubbed his eyes, looking up at his Mum grumpily.
“Oh, let me take him, dear,” Mrs. Weasley fussed, tucking her knitting away, and reaching out for the toddler.
“Grammy!” Ollie laughed, reaching towards his grandmother.
“I’ll take him to the Burrow, and tuck him in with a bottle,” Mrs. Weasley replied, hugging her grandson. “You’ll owl me if anything happens, won’t you?”
“Of course, mum,” Ginny sighed, kissing her son and handing him to his grandmother. Ollie waved, then put his thumb in his mouth, his big brown eyes already blinking heavily. It was an hour past his bedtime.
“I’ll be along soon,” Ginny muttered, rubbing her temples. She wanted so badly to go home, take a long, hot bath and crawl into bed, but she knew she couldn’t leave. Even if she could, there was no way she’d sleep. She leaned her head against the headrest and Ron sighed in sympathetic understanding.
“If it’s successful, he’s going to recall his whole muggle life as well as his wizarding life?” Ginny asked.
“That’s what they say,” Ron replied
“Ron, what would you do if he wanted his muggle life back? If he wanted to live as this Sean Collins bloke?” Ginny asked, twirling a piece of her hair around her finger nervously.
“Pfft! Why would he?” Ron shrugged. “Everyone and everything he has is right here, waiting for him.”
Ginny thought about the redhaired girl. “Think about it, Ron. Those memory charms inadvertently gave Harry exactly what he wanted - a normal life. All he’s ever had here is Death Eaters and nasty reporters.”
“And us!”
“That’s true. But I’m sure he has important people in his muggle life too...”
“You’re tired, Ginny. You should be thinking about how much Harry has to keep him here.” He looked at her significantly.
“Perhaps...” Ginny replied with a headsplitting yawn, as she curled her legs beneath her in the chair. She’d entirely missed the look her brother gave her.
Ginny closed her eyes and tried her best not to think anymore, but of course, she was bombarded with every possible thought of Harry.
How, if he even remembered his former life, he would wake up to find it changed - his two best friends, now married and blissfully happy without him.
He could wake with giant holes in his memory - this was the most likely outcome. Where would those holes would be? What if he forgot Dumbledore or Sirius or Neville? What if he forgot Ron and Hermione? What if he forgot her? Ginny shivered and pulled her sweater tight around her.
The thought that plagued Ginny most was Harry waking up to the girl he’d once loved and trusted and promised forever to. Learning that she hadn’t looked for him - she hadn’t even tried. She’d assumed he was gone forever. She’d gotten married and had a child with another man.
But she hadn’t forgotten him for even a day.
Chapter 8: Chapter 7: Missing Pieces
Author's Notes: A GIGANTIC MEGA BEAR HUG to those who nominated this story for a silver trinket award. THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH - you are all awesome, and this has definately made my day/week/month. It's really wonderful to know that people are actually enjoying this story.
Eternal undying gratitude to my beta Cel AKA cwarbeck, who is awesome, even though she has taken to calling me "Evil Queen Buffy."
Also, please excuse my lack of replies to your lovely comments over these last two weeks - I've been planning for a very complex work trip, and my life is an uproar so I haven't had the time to respond. I'll be away for ten days starting on Friday, so there may be more silence on my part, but please keep reviewing! I still love to read your comments, even I only have a few minutes at an internet cafe and thus am not able to respond.
Phew! that was long winded... well, on with the story!
Chapter 7: Missing Pieces
The night was cool and bright. Silver moonlight streamed through the window where the young bride lay beside her husband, her head on his chest. He ran a finger down her cheek and sighed happily, his hazel eyes sparkling.
“What are you thinking about?” Ginny whispered.
“You, of course,” Oliver said seriously. “And how much I love you.”
“I love you too.” Ginny leaned over to blow out the candle on the nightstand before nestling back beside him.
The room was quiet for a long moment, Oliver gliding his fingers gently through her hair.
“You think about him a lot, don’t you Gin?” Oliver asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Ginny wanted to ask what he was taking about, to make Harry seem like something insignificant, an afterthought. But Oliver knew her far too well.
“Sometimes I do.”
The room was quiet for a long time. Ginny listened to the steady, comforting fall of Oliver’s breath.
“You loved him.”
It was more a statement than a question, but Ginny nodded.
“And then what? What happens when you love someone and they’re gone?”
Ginny sighed and snuggled closer to her husband. “Well, I guess you wait for them to come back. You hope. And when they don’t come back, it really hurts - it’s the worst pain you can imagine. It’s as though pieces of your heart are missing...”
Ginny studied the contour and shadow of Oliver’s face, the way the moonlight from the window traced his features. She had thought she’d hate talking about this with him, that she’d want to avoid the subject as she had in the past, but she wanted to talk tonight. If felt okay. She continued.
“You think the hurt might never fade, but it does, bit by bit. And if you’re really lucky - if you’re as lucky as I’ve been - you find someone else that makes you happy. And, at last, those missing pieces of your heart start feeling whole again.”
***
“Ginny!” Tonks was tapping her shoulder. “Wake up.”
“What’s going on?” Ginny opened one eye and looked around warily, trying to remember where she was. The MLES. Harry. Her heart plummeted sickeningly into her shoes.
“It’s okay, Gin.” Tonks nodded. “He just woke up. Ron and Hermione are in there with him, along with some of the Aurors. He’s... well, he’s a bit befuddled, to be honest. They’re asking him questions right now, working backwards, to determine if his personality is fully intact.”
“Really?” Ginny sat up, rubbing her eyes with her hand. She was sure she’d only slept a few hours - how could they have fixed him in so short a time?
“I had thought it would take more time to restore his memory. Someone said months...”
“It could take more than months, Ginny,” Tonks said, her voice incredibly serious. “It could even take years.”
Ginny swallowed the lump in her throat. “So where’s he at right now?”
“He remembers the last few years as a muggle very clearly, of course. He faintly remembers when the obliviate charm was cast - someone stunning him from behind as he entered Grimmauld Place one afternoon - but unfortunately he never saw them.”
“Snape,” Ginny said. He was one of the only people who knew where the house was.
“That’s what we think, too.”
Ginny felt sick with guilt. They should have looked for him. They should have ignored the fact that his trunk was packed, and sent out a search party immediately. But they had been distracted by Ron’s illness. And who would have thought to look in Muggle London?
Ginny rubbed her temples, her head starting to throb with the beginnings of a headache. “That’s all he remembers?”
“Well, from what I overheard, there seem to be bits and pieces of the time Ron was in hospital. Those are his clearest memories from his life before. And he does remember the night he fought Voldemort.”
Ginny waited for Tonks to continue, but she didn’t. Ginny’s headache suddenly trebled.
“That’s all?” she asked incredulously. The rest was gone. His entire life?
Tonks squeezed her shoulder. “That’s all they’ve been able to retrieve thus far. The spells can be harmful - we can only start the process, and hope that Harry recovers the rest over time. There are other experts, people from other countries... they’ve already been called in to study his case.”
Ginny nodded numbly. “He doesn’t remember Hogwarts? Or quidditch? Or the tri-wizard tournament?” The blood pounded in her temples.
“Not yet, Gin. Everything before Voldemort died is a blank slate.”
Ginny felt like jumping up from her chair and screaming. He didn’t remember Sirius, or Dumbledore, or Professor McGonagall. He didn’t remember Neville and Luna, or winning the Quidditch cup. He had no memory of those trips to Hogsmeade, of Madame Rosmerta or Rita Skeeter or rescuing her from Chamber of Secrets, or even kissing her in front of everyone in the common room in her fifth year.
Ginny pressed her palms hard against her eyelids and swore loudly. Tonks sat down and wrapped a comforting arm around her friends’ shoulders.
“But... but he obviously knows who Ron is. And Hermione.”
“He remembers everyone,” Tonks rubbed Ginny’s back comfortingly. “He has trouble making some of the connections, but he says we all look familiar, like long lost family. He’s confused, but at the same time happy to see people. Moody fully expected him to lash out and try to attack us, to call us kidnappers, but that never happened. Everything is progressing very well.”
“I hope so...”
“The rest will come back, Ginny. Harry’s one tough bloke.”
Ginny simply nodded, looking up at the clock. It was 5 a.m. “Ron hasn’t been to tell mum yet, has he?”
“No. Are you going to go?”
“I’ll go right now,” Ginny got up. “You should go home for a rest too, Tonks. Tell Remus what’s happening - I’m sure he’ll want to be seeing Harry.”
Tonks looked at Ginny searchingly for a moment before nodding. Ginny could see the more obvious question in her friends’ eyes - when would Ginny see Harry?
“You’re not too tired to Apparate, are you?”
“No, I’m fine,” Ginny replied. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Alright,” Tonks said. “Take care. Owl if you need anything.” Tonks eyed Ginny somewhat worriedly as she left the waiting room and headed towards the safe Apparition point.
“Thanks, I will,” Ginny replied, getting up from her chair.
As Ginny caught sight of her reflection in a window, she understood why Tonks looked concerned. Her face was pale, the color gone from her cheeks, bags under her eyes like charcoal smudges. Her long red hair was messy and listless. She walked down the wallway to the safe point, and turned her wand to Apparate to the familiar Burrow kitchen, knowing her mum would be awake and waiting in the bright kitchen, the tea kettle on.
****
“... and Tonks says they think he’ll recover the rest over time. That’s all I know.”
Ginny wrapped her hand around her teacup. She savored the warmth, but couldn’t bring herself to drink it. She looked at her parents’, their faces expressionless as they absorbed the news.
“Should I go down there with some biscuits?” Mrs. Weasley finally piped up.
“That’s a wonderful idea, Molly,” Mr. Weasley said, squeezing his wife’s hand. He looked over at Ginny, fatherly concern in his eyes. “You need to be getting some sleep, young lady.”
“But I slept at the MLES.”
“In one of those hard wooden chairs?” Her father eyed her sternly. “You need more sleep than that after the day you’ve had.”
“Yes, Dad,” Ginny replied sheepishly, getting up. “I’ll go nap with Ollie.”
Ginny knew there was no way she’d sleep more than a couple hours anyhow. Maybe by that time, she’d be ready to see Harry. She undressed and pulled her nightgown over her head, picking Ollie up from his cradle and laying him beside her in her bed. She needed to be close to her son - the content on his sleeping face stole all the worry from her heart. She wrapped a careful arm around him, and fell into a dreamless sleep.
“Gin?”
Ginny woke up, catching sight of the full rays of the sun through her window. She looked at her clock. 10 AM.
Hermione stood at the foot of her bed.
“Where’s Ollie?” Ginny mumbled, pulling herself into a sitting position.
“Your mum has him downstairs - he was just waking when she came up here a couple of hours ago. She didn’t want him to wake you.”
“Bollocks,” Ginny was pulling her jeans on, searching the floor for her sweater. “How’s Harry?”
“He’s good. He’s down the hall in Ron’s old room.”
Hermione eyed Ginny amusedly as her friend’s jaw dropped.
“He’s just got here a few minutes ago, Gin, but he’s already asleep. Reverse memory charms are incredibly taxing. I’d think you’ve probably got time for a shower, some breakfast, before you see him...”
“Really?” That meant she could go home, she could put on clothes she hadn’t slept in.
“Really.”
Ginny swallowed heavily, trying to prevent nervous anticipation from overtaking her. When she saw Harry, she wanted to be calm, cool, and collected. Hermione yawned, flopping on the bed Ginny had just vacated.
“You must be tired, Hermione.”
“A little...” her friend replied. “I’m running on adrenaline. I mean, he’s back. Can you believe it?”
“It’s... well, it’s unbelievable,” Ginny agreed.
“He asked for you, you know.”
“He did?” Ginny bit the inside of her lip nervously.
“Yeah, a couple of times.”
“So... so he remembers me?”
“Pfft! Of course! If he remembers Ron and I, he’s going to remember you, silly girl.”
“Yeah, of course." Ginny said, trying to sound casual. "Is he different now?"
Hermione sighed deeply. “I don’t know, Ginny. He was disoriented and wary - we had to explain so much to him. It’s difficult to tell. I’d say yes... he’s very different.”
“Very different, huh?” Ginny felt heartsick.
“Yes, I’d say so.” Hermione replied. “Not that he’s not Harry, because you know he is, but he’s not the Harry we once knew.”
“I...see.”
“I can’t really describe it, Ginny. It's too confusing to explain. You’ll see for yourself when you speak with him."
"Okay..." Ginny trailed off miserably.
"You have to remember that he’s lived a different life for four years. In fact, during that time, he’s become a different person altogether. " Hermion continued. "The first thing that’s different, and a little bit difficult for me to get used to, is that I think he’d prefer to be called Sean. For the time being. He as much as told us so.”
“Oh,” Ginny sunk down on the edge of the bed beside her friend. She had no idea what to say.
“It’s all feels a bit like a dream, Ginny. To see Harry there in front of you, and to realize he only has one hazy week of lousy painful memories of his life here. But there’s four years of crystal clear Sean memories. Of course it would be appropriate to call him Sean.”
“So, it’s not really like talking with Harry, then.” Ginny said flatly. “If he doesn’t remember being Harry...”
“But he is Harry, Ginny,” Hermione reached over and squeezed her friend’s hand. “I don’t know... I think of if as two halves of the same person.”
“Do you think....” Ginny fidgeted with her hands, almost unable to ask. “Well, you’re the expert, Hermione. In your professional opinion, do you think he’s going to remember anything else?”
“I think so, Ginny.” Hermione said determinedly. “If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t say anything for sure, but this is Harry Potter we’re talking about. Miracles do tend to happen where Harry’s concerned.”
Ginny tucked her hair behind her ears and nodded.
Hermione eyed the clock on the night stand and got up reluctantly. “I need to check in on some patients at St. Mungo’s - the sooner I do that, the sooner I can go home to sleep. Owl me tonight, will you, after you talk to him?”
“Sure.”
“I’d like your ideas on how we can start getting Harry’s memories back. I thought we’d start with a list of familiar places he could visit, things he needs to experience, to get in touch with his old self. There’s that old Muggle adage - it only takes one step to trigger a landslide.”
Ginny nodded against Hermione shoulder as she hugged her. The Gryffindor Common Room, Quidditch, Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley. There were so many places they could go, things they could show him. Something would help him come back. It had to.
After breakfast, Ginny took Ollie for a long walk around the garden at the Burrow, intending to “think”. Harry - no, Sean - was still asleep, he would be that way for hours, so Ginny Apparated home, immediately putting her wiggling son on the ground and flopping facedown on her bed, her head in her hands. So much had changed in her life, so much had changed in the past 24 hours. She was officially a year older, only 22, but already a mother, a widow.
And now he was back. Harry. Maybe not the same Harry that was always in the back of her mind, maybe not the same Harry that came alive in her dreams so vividly she could almost taste him, but some form of Harry nonetheless.
It had taken so long for Ginny to learn to think of Harry in the past tense: Harry had green eyes. Harry wore glasses. Harry used to like pumpkin pasties. Ron and Hermione had never done this - on those rare occasions when Harry’s name had came up, they still spoke of him in the present. It used to drive Ginny crazy.
She had mourned Harry’s loss. She had achieved some level of closure, maybe not complete closure, but enough distance to resign herself to never seeing him again. And now, all in a day, he was back, the most unexpected birthday gift of all. She hadn’t even spoken to him yet, but she could already feel her life had shifted irreversibly.
“Ready to meet your uncle Sean?” she asked her son, who’d just crawled out of her closet, one of Ollie’s old socks in his hand.
“No!” the little boy replied cheerfully, sticking the sock in his mouth.
“Me neither,” Ginny sighed nervously, picking the baby up and kissing his rosy cheek.
They Disapparated.
Chapter 9: Chapter 8: Reunion
Chapter 8: ReunionSean was still asleep when Ginny arrived at The Burrow, to her nervous relief. She played with Ollie on the hearthrug and drank some tea, her mind trying to puzzle through what she would say first. An hour later, she sat down to lunch with her mum, and her brain still hadn’t gotten past “Hi, Sean. Glad you’re awake.”
Ollie steadfastly ignored the letter blocks Ginny was hovering in front of him with her wand. He rubbed his face, and looked at his mother with watery eyes. He’d barely slept last night.
“Naptime, kiddo,” she said, picking him up and patting his back as she climbed the stairs, humming quietly. His eyes were already fluttering closed as she laid him on his back in her old bed, his chest rising and falling steadily.
Ginny peeked through the door as she pulled it closed, smiling at her son. He was such a gift. It was hard at moments like this, staring into his peaceful little face, to believe the terrible twos were approaching -
“Hi, Ginny.”
Ginny jumped. Harry Potter stood just a few steps above her in her brother’s ratty old robe, looking as though he’d just woken from a casual afternoon nap.
Ginny's first impulse was to reach out and hug him. She almost did, the warm three-dimensional boy of her dreams standing right there, all sleepy-eyed and messy-haired. She wanted to grab onto him and never let him go; her arms were shaking. But she was somehow frozen, she knew couldn't move a muscle if she tried. So instead of hugging him, she spoke, her voice too loud in the small space.
"Harry - Oh, uh, I mean Sean! How are you feeling?"
“Could be worse, I guess” he said hoarsely. Ginny watched his adam’s apple jump as he swallowed. The awkwardness in the air was thick and suffocating - Ginny pressed her sweating palms against the wall behind her. She wanted to touch him, she needed to. It was like he wasn't real - a figment of her imagination, maybe.
He came down a couple more stairs to stand just across from her. Ginny couldn't speak, she could only look, her eyes devouring every detail as though at any moment he might disappear again. He pushed his messy hair back from his face, a nervous gesture that was both so familiar and so different all at once that Ginny was suddenly breathless. He cleared his throat to speak.
“My eyes are burning. Haven’t got any contact lens solution by chance, have you?”
He smiled as though he was cracking a joke and Ginny smiled back, laughing weakly. He was talking gibberish - why hadn’t Hermione warned her Harry was as batty as Lockhart?
“Sorry, that was a stupid joke.” He smiled crookedly. “This is all going to take some getting used to, I guess.”
Ginny just nodded.
“You see, I wear contact lenses. They’re really small bits of plastic and we... I mean, uh, the Muggles stick them into their eyes to help them see things better. Instead of wearing glasses.”
“Oh, I see.” Ginny replied, feeling stupider by the second.
“You have to put this... sort of potion on them every day or your eyes begin to dry out. Muggles buy it at their chemist... it’s made from saline.”
“Saline. Like tears?” Ginny finally steeled herself to look up directly into Harry’s green eyes. Sean’s green eyes. Her heart was a stampede.
“Yeah, exactly like tears.”
Ginny pulled out her wand. “Just close your eyes a moment,” she said quietly.
Sean did as she said, his face perfectly trusting.
“Oceanus minutus,” she whispered, waving her wand over his eyes with a small flick of her wrist.
“Wow...” Sean opened his eyes. They were watering slightly.
“Too much?” Ginny asked, her wand at the ready. He didn’t answer for a moment.
“Thanks - it's fine... it really did the trick.” He nodded and grinned at her wand, wiping drops of water from his eyelashes. "Amazing. I guess if I’m to catch on to this magic thing, I’ll need to get myself another wand.”
“You might want to look into it,” Ginny said cautiously. “If you’re sticking around, that is.”
Sean’s cheek twitched a little. “You think I should go back to being a Muggle, huh?”
“Only if that’s what you want to do,” she said seriously. She couldn't imagine the pain of him leaving now, it would be unbearable. Her heart would break into a thousand pieces, she would climb into bed and never get back out. But he had that choice. There was the other girl, after all...
“Everyone else just assumes I’ll want to stay,” Sean shrugged his shoulders. “What could be better than magic?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never known life without it,” Ginny replied honestly, trying to prevent her voice from quaking.
Sean sat down on the step and looked up at her. She could see the worry in his eyes. “If you were in my shoes, what would you do?”
Ginny was quiet for a moment, staring at her hands. “That’s a hard question. I think I’d likely stay and figure out who I was, then I’d decide what to do. You’re lucky, you know. Most people don’t get to choose who they want to be...” Ginny trailed off nervously.
“This is crazy... I still half-believe you’ve all bewitched me or something, that I’m really not the person you think I am -”
“But you remember things-”
“Oh, I do, I guess. I’ve been having this same dream, you see, for the past few years. I dreamed the same thing almost every bloody night...” he trailed off.
“What is it?” Ginny asked.
“Well, I’m fighting a man who looks like a zombie, as though he’s half-man, half-snake.”
“That’s Voldemort.”
“Yeah - I mentioned this to the Aurors, and that’s what they said too. They said the dream could be a memory. In fact, I know now it must be a memory because in the dream, I have a wand. And there are bright lights all around, explosions. It was the worst nightmare ever - so incredibly vivid. I’d wake up shaking. And now I find out this stuff is real... that I really did fight this Voldemort person, and that he was truly evil, and that one of his followers apparently avenged him by destroying my memories.” Sean laughed uncertainly. “It’s like a story from a comic book.”
Ginny nodded, trying not to be confused by his reference to this cosmic book thing. She made a mental note to ask Hermione later.
“Plus, you’re so familiar to me. Not just your faces and your names, either. Deep down, I feel like I’ve known you forever, the way you know family, maybe. After I woke at the Ministry and I saw Ron, I knew immediately that he was my oldest friend. I knew his middle name, I knew that he hates spiders and loves Quidditch, even though I don’t quite know what Quidditch is. I knew the kind of jokes he would tell.. And I look at you, Ginny, and my brain tells me you like to dance and you're excellent at Charms, and your favorite sweets are Chocolate Frogs...”
He trailed off, becoming lost in thought. Ginny watched him carefully, her heart brimming with both hope and worry. Did he remember dating her? Kissing her? Saying he loved her? He looked at her and smiled warmly. It was a friend’s smile, not a lover’s smile. Ginny smiled back.
“Did you know you saved my life once?” Ginny said, settling down a stair below him. “At Hogwarts. I was trapped by a Basilisk and you saved me.”
“Hogwarts. That’s the boarding school we all went to, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So what’s this basilisk thing?”
“It’s a monster, a snake...” Ginny hesitated. Telling the entire story of his second year at Hogwarts would only confuse him further. It could wait. “Anyways, you can talk to snakes, you know.”
“Wizards can talk to animals?” Sean looked impressed.
“Well, you can anyways. Only snakes. Parseltongue is an extremely rare talent among wizards.”
“Parseltongue, huh? So do I hiss at them or something?”
“More or less,” Ginny replied, biting back a grin.
Sean laughed and, closing his eyes, held out his arm. “Pinch me. This whole thing’s got to be a dream.”
Ginny laughed and lightly pinched his arm. He slowly opened one eye and then the other, looking around, a playful smirk on his face.
“You’re still here...”
“So are you. No dream, I’m afraid.”
Sean grinned, playing with the cuffs of the old bathrobe. They were silent again for a few moments, but it wasn’t as uncomfortable this time.
Sean smiled bemusedly. “So, which name suits me better - Sean or Harry?”
Ginny wrinkled up her nose. “I don’t know, really. I’d say Harry suits you better, but that’s what I’m used to-”
“Do I seem a lot like the old Harry?” he interrupted, his face suddenly serious.
“I... I don’t really know how to answer that.”
“Answer it honestly.” He looked at her with his piercing green eyes, and Ginny felt a shiver run up her spine.
“Yes and no, I suppose...” Ginny began, smoothing her hair nervously, noting that her hands were still shaking. “For one thing, the old Harry probably would never have asked that question.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And from what I can tell, I mean, it's only been ten minutes and perhaps we're just getting reacquainted, but you seem to talk a lot more than before. I think it used to be quite difficult for you to share what you were thinking. You’d brood a lot, keep everything very secret, until one of us poked and prodded and whinged for you to tell us what was actually going on. You were... sort of mysterious.”
“Mysterious, huh?” he grinned.
“Yeah, a bit mysterious, at least sometimes...” Ginny paused, taking a deep breath. It was just so easy to talk with him, as easy as it had ever been. She continued, slowly, feeling a little more comfortable. "The verbally expressive parts of you must be very Sean-like. But I can see lot of Harry Potter in the things you do.”
“In what way?”
“Your mannerisms are the same. Like the way you move your hands when you talk, as though you’d like to be making these grand gestures, but you’re a little too shy. You bite your lower lip when you’re thinking intently about something - you’re doing it now!” she laughed. “And you have this sort of quiet yet serious intensity that is so very Harry-”
“We dated, didn’t we?” Sean said abruptly.
Ginny’s heart suddenly began to race again, and she felt her face colour. “Uh, yeah... yeah we did.”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked like that...” Sean’s face began to redden too.
“No... not at all.” Ginny bit her lip and tried to breathe normally, asking the first question she could think of.
“Um, so Hermione said you remember bits of the time immediately before you were memory charmed, like when Ron was in the
hospital...”
“Yeah,” Sean’s brow wrinkled. Ginny could see him trying to push his embarassment aside. “I have these little disjointed memories. Being in a hospital makes sense, I suppose. I remember Ron laying in a bed, and there are people wearing strange white robes - doctors. Do all wizards wear robes?”
“Sometimes,” Ginny replied, thankful for the change in subject; she didn’t know if they should talk about their romantic history. “For work and for school. Or for more formal occasions.”
“Right,” Sean nodded. “Well, I remember the hospital room then, I guess. And I remember sleeping there a couple of nights, I think... the darkness of the room. It’s very foggy.”
Ginny remembered laying beside him, her head in his lap. They’d made love for the second time ever in an empty hospital room one night, sad and desperate, trying to quell the pain of her brother's illness for a few fleeting moments. Ginny’s cheeks began to grow red again. Maybe that’s why he had asked if they dated. Maybe one of those foggy memories was that one.
“Do you remember details from Sean’s childhood?” Ginny asked, trying desperately to distract herself from her thoughts. What if he remembered? Ginny had a sudden strong urge to pull him back up the stairs and snog him senseless. Would that jog his memory?, she wondered, trying not to grin.
“Not well. I have a few memories of my family, about going on a picnic and playing soccer in a field - these memories are hazy too, they always have been, but it’s a different kind of hazy than the memories of Ron and the hospital. It’s like how you remember scenes from a movie - like you're watching them at a distance instead of participating.”
Ginny had only seen one Muggle movie, but she nodded, still thinking about kissing, remembering the ways Harry liked to be kissed. She couldn't get it out of her head.
“I remember there was a car accident a few years ago, and my parents were killed. I was in the vehicle too - the accident affected my long-term memory, and that’s where the scar of my head came from.”
“I see...”
“Except none of that really happened, of course. It was a lie someone made up and stuffed in my head to replace Harry Potter’s memories.” He sighed heavily. “I’m like Mr. Nobody.”
“Oh, that’s not true!” Ginny scolded.
“Really?”’ He raised an eyebrow and looked at her quizzically. “How can either Harry or Sean exist without a past?”
“Oh, bollocks to the past! What about the present?”
“Exactly. What about it? How do I live between these two worlds? I can’t be this Harry bloke - I know nothing about him, and I can’t go back to my old life, knowing it’s all lies.”
Ginny had no answer. She just looked at him, swallowing the lump in her throat. She hoped her face looked friendly, encouraging. He could do it, somehow.
“We’ll all going to help you, Sean.”
“I know...” he trailed off into silence.
Ginny tried to focus, to mentally absorb the things the man beside her had said. She even tried to put herself in his position. What would she do if her life was erased?
“I’m missing work back in London today," he quipped. "And somehow, I don’t think my supervisor will believe my excuse."
Ginny grinned despite herself. “You should tell him you’ve been skivving off to learn magic because you’re actually a wizard.”
“Good idea. Then I won’t have to quit. He'd just can me.”
Ginny laughed. "Brilliant."
“It would be brilliant. I've wanted to quit for ages. And all my things are at London in my ugly little flat, but I’ve been told Harry owned, I mean, I own some big old house in the city?”
“You do.” Ginny said, trying not to grimace when she thought of Grimmauld Place.
“What a crazy thought - I’ve never owned anything. Is it a nice place?”
“It’s... Well, it’s got a certain charm, I suppose. You can clean it up - we’ll all help you.”
“That bad, huh?” he smirked.
Ginny laughed. "It'll be okay."
He nodded. “I remember The Burrow,” he continued, tracing a finger around a swirl on the old patterned wallpaper that ran the length of the stairs. “Something about this place feels like coming home. All the little details seem as though they belong here.”
“It was like your second home,” Ginny replied. “After Hogwarts.”
“This was your room, right?” he said, glancing at the door behind them.
“It used to be.”
“Do you still live here?”
“No. I have a house in the Scottish highlands, actually, not far from Hogsmeade.”
“I’ve been to Hogsmeade, haven’t I?”
“Sure. Loads of times.”
“I should go there again - the Aurors said seeing familiar things will help me remember them.”
“Hermione and I were discussing that this morning. We’re planning to take you all over the place, to see if you can remember things.”
“I’d like that - if you could show me around, take me to places like Hogsmeade and to Hogwarts, when you’re not at work that is..."
"We'd love to."
"Speaking of work, what is it that you do?”
“I play professional Quidditch.”
Sean looked at her, impressed. “So you don’t have to look like a big burly footballer to play this Quidditch game, then.”
“It’s nothing like football,” Ginny laughed. “You played Quidditch at Hogwarts. You were a Seeker - an extremely good one.”
“Really?”
“Very good. You could have played professionally too.”
“I play football back in London. I’m in a league...”
“Lots of running about, I imagine.” Ginny knew a little about football from having dated Dean Thomas briefly in her fifth year. He had explained the rules to her, and told her what teams he thought especially good. She knew that the Muggle footballers had to run all over the pitch for long periods of time, which explained Harry’s lean muscular physique.
“I like running about. Sitting at a desk all day gets old pretty quickly.”
“Where is it that you work? The job you want to quit so badly?”
“I work in an office in London. Data entry, working with computers. I bloody hate it.”
“I’ve never used a computer...”
“You... uh, we don’t really need them, do we? Witches and wizards have magic instead of technology.”
Ginny grinned. “I guess you’re right.”
“So what else do you do?” Sean addressed Ginny curiously. “For fun and all that...”
“Oh, loads, really.” Ginny replied evasively. Sitting with her mother on Friday nights drinking tea and mending socks didn’t exactly count as ‘fun.’ Neither did potty training...
Ginny noticed Sean glance casually at her hand. She no longer wore her wedding band, but she still occasionally wore her engagement ring when she wasn’t playing Quidditch.
“So you’re engaged, are you?”
“No...” Ginny replied slowly. Something in Sean’s face had just changed, a minute change but a noticeable one. He was relieved, she realized, cold fear creeping up her spine.
“I’m widowed,” she blurted out.
“Widowed? Oh... bloody hell, I'm sorry - I mean, I didn’t know-”
“It’s okay. My husband, his name was Oliver. You knew him - you went to Hogwarts together, played on the same Quidditch team for a bit.”
Sean nodded and neither of them spoke for a moment. Ginny felt the blanket of awkwardness re-stretching itself over their conversation. She was about to clear her throat, make a lame joke, something, anything, when he finally spoke again.
“Can I ask what happened to him, or is that too personal?”
“Oliver played Quidditch too - and there was an accident during a match. He was fatally injured. And I have a son,” she blurted.
Sean looked at her, his face closed, unreadable. Ginny bit her lip self consciously and took a breath before she continued talking - the silence, Sean’s face, that face that was so familiar and at the same time so different - she had to keep talking, the silence was just too heavy.
“My son’s name is Ollie. He’s incredible. Mum calls him my angel. I really don’t know what I’d have done this past year and a half without him. It probably sounds strange to you, but having a child - even if I’m a single witch and it’s hard sometimes - is a wonderful thing. It’s a much different feeling than you’d ever guess it to be, much bigger. There aren’t words for that kind of love, really...”
Ginny stopped talking, realizing that she had been rambling. Sean sat right beside her, their legs almost touching, his bright green eyes studying her in that intimately familiar way that seemed to search her very soul while revealing absolutely nothing about what was happening inside his head. At the same time, Ginny could tell Ollie was waking up - she heard him stirring in her bedroom.
“And he's awake from his nap.” Ginny rose to her feet, thankful for the distraction.
“I see,” Sean said, rising to his feet.
“Do you want to meet him?” Ginny asked, turning the knob to the bedroom door.
“Uh, I'd like that.”
He followed Ginny into her old bedroom where Ollie lay on his back on top of the patchwork quilt, his little hands rubbing at his eyes.
“Hey baby,” Ginny whispered, reaching down and picking up her son, smoothing his bed-head, the red curls in wild disarray. The child stared up at his mother adoringly for a moment before pointing at Sean.
“That’s your Uncle Sean, Ollie,” Ginny said with a grin. “Can you say Uncle Sean?”
“Uncle?” the child replied, craning his little arms towards Sean.
“Uncle Sean...” Ginny repeated.
Ollie shook his head stubbornly. It was too hard of a name for him. Or maybe it was too close to Uncle Ron. He gestured insistently at Sean. “Uncle, Ollie wanna up!”
Ginny started to pass the toddler over to his newest uncle, who was staring at the child seriously, his eyebrows knit in concentration. His hands were up in front of him as though he were about to catch a Quaffle.
Ginny smiled fondly. “You’ve never held a baby before, have you?”
“Uh,” Sean said, swallowing heavily. “Not really...”
“It’s easy. He’s a big boy - you don’t have to worry too much. Just take him under his arms,” Ginny urged, gently beginning to transfer her eager son into Sean’s shaky hands. “Just like that.”
Ginny watched as Sean cautiously adjusted her curious son in his arms; she took his hand in hers for a moment, guiding it to support the squirming child. Touching his hand seemed to light a fire under her skin - some things hadn't changed with time, she thought, looking at the man beside her. Damn you and your unbelievable attractiveness, Harry Potter, she thought, a cheeky grin sliding across her face.
“Hello there, Ollie,” Sean said solemnly to the child, who was looking eagerly into the new face in front of him.
“Uncle?” Ollie squealed excitedly, his little hand touching the slight stubble on Sean’s cheek.
“He likes you,” Ginny said to Sean.
“Yeah?” Sean looked shocked.
As if in answer, Ollie snuggled his forehead against Sean’s shoulder and sighed contentedly. “Ollie wanna pum’kin pastie, Uncle.”
“He’s hungry all the time - a typical Weasley trait.” Ginny said, grinning at the two boys in front of her. “Snack time, Ollie?”
“Yep! I wanna down!”
Sean placed the wiggly little boy on the ground. However, Ollie immediately grasped his newest uncle's hand and pulled him to the door.
“C’mon, Uncle! Grammy has snacks!”
Sean looked at her and shrugged, allowing a small smile to sneak across his face as Ollie pulled him towards the door, a grin that was one hundred percent “old Harry.” It made Ginny’s heart leap in her throat again.
“I’ll meet you boys downstairs in a second,” Ginny said brightly, turning to neaten the blanket across the bed. Her chest suddenly felt tight, as though warding away tears. The conversation had drained her more than she’d let on. Would he ever remember? Did he even want to - he had a life in London as Sean Collins, a secure life with a girlfriend and a job and a flat of his own. Here, there would be problems: Ginny could already see their shadows lurking in the corners.
She walked down the stairs quietly, looking through the kitchen doorway where the boy who used to be Harry Potter held her son gingerly on his knee. Molly Weasley fussed over them both, making a pot of ginger tea and biscuits. It was a perfect tableau of family content.
Ginny heart ached. She looked at the group, a single tear falling down her cheek. She couldn’t help but think she was looking at something that could have been, in another world, another time.
Chapter 10: Chapter 9 - The Game
Ginny pulled on her Quidditch robes slowly, trying to get herself into the right mental state for the big game. She was nervous, incredibly so. This was Chudley’s last chance for playoffs. She had been at practice every single day that week for ten hours straight - Chudley hadn’t been this close to playoffs in fifty years, and Coach Richards was a man possessed, his team flying drill after drill until they were dodging stray Bludgers in their sleep.The entire Weasley family was present up in the Minister’s box for the momentous event. Even Charlie had made the trip. Hermione came to the game with Ron, which was rare given that she hated Quidditch, and joined Ginny’s mother in lecturing about how dangerous it was, a fact that Ginny, of all people, knew very well.
Sean was there too, disguised to avoid reporters, who had not yet discovered his return. In the five days he had been back, he hadn’t remembered anything else about Harry’s life, despite every effort by numerous experts. The Ministry had commissioned specialists from the United States, France, and Switzerland to examine Sean, observing him night and day, to little avail. All the experts could agree on was one thing - finding Harry, the real Harry, again was indeed a possibility; the few memories Sean did have were proof that Harry’s life was still there inside his head, Harry’s personality hadn’t been fractured or destroyed. They just needed the key to those memories. They had tried potions, charms, spells - her Dad had said something about Sean having to wear dragonhide earmuffs at night, soaked in extract of Hellebore - a technique the Romanian doctor swore would restore memory slowly over two weeks.
Ginny wasn’t holding out much hope on that method, though. She was, however, hoping that seeing this Quidditch game would help; if there was one thing close to Harry Potter’s heart, it was Quidditch. He had once told Ginny that one of his dearest memories was the first time he flew, the first time he reached out during that fateful game in his first year, and saw the Golden Snitch fluttering in the palm of his hand. If he could unlock just that one happy memory by watching this game, other memories would surely follow. Maybe there would be memories of her. Maybe after the game, Ginny could be sitting beside Harry at dinner instead of Sean. She was suffused with every hope that would be the case.
Ginny blew a stray tendril of hair out of her face and tried to focus, mounting her broom and watching her team fly out onto the field to deafening applause.
“AND FINALLY, LEADING THE CANNONS IN SCORING THIS SEASON, THAT GORGEOUS LITTLE SPITFIRE WE ALL KNOW AND LOVE, NUMBER THREE - GINEVRA WEASLEY!”
“Thanks, Lee,” Ginny muttered as she zoomed once around the pitch, waving to the crowd. She stopped briefly in front of the Minister’s box, where her family was in the front row. Ollie sat on his grandpa’s shoulders, waving and laughing hysterically; he had no idea what was happening, but he absolutely loved the applause and the noise of the crowd. Ron was painted entirely orange, except for white shorts and a giant white C emblazoned across his bare chest. Hermione was standing beside him, looking humiliated by her husband’s antics - Ginny knew she probably had a book in her bag which she would read through most of the game. Sean was on the other side of Ron, looking through the omnioculars in amazement and confusion, twisting dials curiously. Ginny laughed. The twins were perched beside him in bright orange jumpers, throwing peanuts at the side of Ron’s head.
Ginny was somewhat shocked that no one from the Prophet had yet discovered the return of Harry Potter. She guessed it was Sean’s lack of glasses, and the series of hats he wore everywhere to hide his scar, on the advice of Mad-Eye Moody. Today he wore a Cannons ballcap he’d borrowed from Ron - thus he blended perfectly into the crowd. Even in the Minister’s box, no one batted an eye in his direction. The Weasley’s were a big family, and there were always various odd friends and relatives accompanying them to events. No one would notice, although Ginny thought it laughably obvious.
She pulled her focus back to the task ahead. The opposing Chasers of the Ballycastle Bats were nothing to worry about. Ginny was the smallest and quickest Chaser on the pitch, and she was confident she could outmanoeuvre most of their tackles and attempted steals. She was a bit more worried about Ballycastle’s defense - the Beaters were two brothers, called the Wilders. They were huge, burly and notoriously sexist;: Ginny had read an interview where they had been quoted as saying that witches belong in the kitchen and wreck the game by mucking about on the Quidditch pitch. Ginny, along with every female Quidditch player she knew, had been infuriated for weeks afterwards. What did they think it was, the Dark Ages?
The Wilder brothers’ last name was also appropriate, given their astounding penalty stats. They had taken out the Cannon’s Seeker during a game early last season, breaking his leg in two places. They glared menacingly at Ginny, the sole female Cannon on the field at that moment. Ginny smiled back, a big fake smile... during the last game, she had zoomed around them like a hummingbird, their Bludgers coming nowhere near hitting her despite their best efforts. She’d show them again.-
And a second later, the Quaffle was released and Ginny was a blur of orange as she zoomed forward to grab it from the reaching fingertips of a Bats Chaser. She had tucked it tightly to her chest and was whizzing towards the goals in less than a heartbeat. Her teammates zoomed beside her in perfect triangle passing formation. Ginny knew that, with her breakaway, she didn’t really have to pass - the Bats hadn’t caught up to them yet, but she fired an almost lazy backwards pass to her teammate Fletcher, resulting in the first goal of the game. This was way too easy, Ginny thought with a grin, as Ballycastle took possession.
Lee Jordan’s voice rose above the din of the crowd. “Ballycastle chaser Doug Owens passes... Oh - it’s just a tad too slow - Harper steals for the Cannons! He passes to Fletcher, who passes it back, now over to Weasley, back to Harris..... ooh, a close miss from a Bludger there, but he’s got it together, folks, a quick lob back to Weasley and... YES! The shot is good! 20-0 for the Cannons!”
Ginny laughed, letting herself be taken away for a second by the joy of the day, the brilliantly blue sky, the refreshingly cool wind through her hair. Even halfway across the field, she could make out the colourful form of Ron jumping up and down, waving his arms in the air like a maniac as she spun back into position and the other team took the Quaffle. The Bats Chaser she was shadowing darted left, but Ginny predicted the next move, the Keeper would pass to the right and then he’d send a low pass left and -
“Intercepted by Weasley, who fakes right and - OH, that was so fast I could barely follow, I think it was a pass to Fletcher, Harris, now Fletcher again - lovely roll to avoid that Bludger there, back across to Weasley and SHE SCORES! That makes it 30 -0 for Chudley!”
Ginny looped back again, waving at the screaming, orange-robed crowd of enthusiastic Cannons fans. She spun back into position just over the half-field line. The opposing Keeper held the ball, awaiting the referee’s whistle to resume play, and-
SNAP.
Ginny felt a sudden brutal jerk, and before she could determine what had occurred, she was out of control. She pulled up on the handle of her Firebolt to little avail; the world was spinning wildly, all blue sky as centrifugal force threatened to yank her from her broom. A Bludger? But how could it be - the Quaffle wasn’t even in play yet! She pulled up on her broom again with all her might, hearing a series of crackling snaps under her hand, which she now realiszed was blooming with a horrible pain. But somehow, she’d regained control of her broom; she was still sinking towards the pitch, but she was no longer spinning. She landed clumsily, almost falling forward over the handle, which was she discovered was splintered and cracked as she released it.
“..and WHAT A FALL! But Weasley looks to be okay!” Lee’s voice boomed. “That’s a certain Bats foul against the Cannons. Beater Ted Wilder with a close range Bludger before the whistle - what’s that about, old man? Got a problem with ladies out-flying you? Oy, well, Wilder’s off for the game, and as penalty, the referee awards 20 more points to the Cannons, who now lead 50-0 after only three minutes of play-”
The coaching assistant was running towards her, her spare broom in his hands, followed by Watson the medic. Ginny stared down in disbelief at her trusty Firebolt, the impact of the Bludger just centimeters above where her left hand gripped the handle. The force must have been what had sent Ginny into a tailspin.
“You okay, Weasley?” the assistant hollered, handing over her backup broom, Oliver’s old Firebolt. Ginny didn’t reply, she was in the air again in under a second. Anger coursed through her veins, hot like liquid fire. Anger made her play better, she knew. Anger made her reckless and quick, daring. Ginny focused on that, her jaw set, able to ignore the throbbing of her hand until a minute later when she was hurtling toward the Bats’ goal, a quick pass coming towards her from a teammate on the left. The sudden ringing pain that shot up her arm as she caught the Quaffle almost made her black out, but she shifted the ball to her right arm and hurled it fiercely at the nearest ring.
“And a save by Bats keeper Matt Toro!” Lee yelled.
Ginny gritted her teeth. She could play through this. She glanced down at her left hand. There didn’t seem to be any blood, at least. The tightness of the leather chaser’s glove would keep any swelling down. It was going numb, she realized as she tried to flex it. Everything would be fine. Her right hand was stronger, anyhow.
“Let the game take over, Ginny” she whispered Oliver’s advice to herself. “Block everything else, every distraction, and every pain.”
Over an hour later, Ginny landed on the pitch with the rest of her team, sweaty and disappointed. The Bats had gotten the Snitch first, and the Cannons lost. Only by twenty points, thanks to the hard work of the Chasers, but a loss was, unfortunately, still a loss. And Ginny had missed two passes on her left side, and a total of four shots on goal - and it was all her fault. That big loser Ted Wilder probably thought he’d rattled her - and that was the worst part. Her entire arm throbbed miserably and she swore she could feel her coach’s eyes burning angrily into the back of her head as they went into the dressing rooms.
“Thank bloody Merlin for being the only freaking woman on this team,” Ginny muttered, swearing under her breath as she gingerly unlaced her glove and pulled it off. The skin was purple with bruising. When her broom broke, something must have happened. Or maybe the Bludger hit her... she hadn’t felt anything though. She undressed cautiously, leaning her forehead against the shower wall and letting the scalding hot water rush over her head. Their coaching team wouldn’t yell at them immediately after a loss, Ginny knew. It sounded like a merciful way to deal with things, but it really wasn’t. The head coach would just wait until their next practice to yell. He’d wait until he’d watched the replays a hundred times on his omnioculars and analyzed every single thing she’d done wrong. He’d surely notice his star Chaser favouring her right hand. Ginny Weasley, the little spitfire herself, was the reason the Cannons lost their playoff spot.
Ginny cast a drying charm on her hair and took a pain potion out of the back of her locker, pulling the stopper and gulping the entire concoction down. She took a deep breath, and a second later, the pain in her hand diminished from excruciating to a dull roar. She got dressed again in faded blue jeans and a pink t-shirt and cast a temporary cosmetic charm on the skin of her hand, watching the purple fade away. Time for Dinner at The Burrow - an after-game tradition. Ginny really just wanted to collect Ollie and go home to bed. Maybe she would convince Hermione to cast a healing charm first. She locked up her gear and Disapparated.
She reappeared at The Burrow, just down the dusty back lane. A little walk would make things better. She loved watching the house appear in all its crooked charm as she reached the top of the hill. The lights in all the windows welcomed her, blazing bright and cheerful in the looming twilight. Ginny had her own home, a big beautiful house that she and her son both loved, but The Burrow would always be her real home. Home was with the people she loved.
As she got closer, she could see a figure silhouetted on the porch. She shivered. It was Harry — no, Sean. She wanted to pinch herself to remember: she really had to stop the bad habit of calling him Harry inside her head.
She hadn’t been alone with him since that first day, she realized, flattening her hair. She’d seen him twice more over dinner, but between her practice schedule and his time at the Ministry with the Aurors and mediwizards, there had been no time to talk. Butterflies fluttered in her chest as she moved closer to him.
He hadn’t noticed her yet. He was looking through the omnioculars, biting his lip in concentration. Ginny stood in front of him for a moment or two, just looking at him —, the perfect jet black of his hair, his languid yet graceful posture. He seemed so peaceful, she didn’t want to disturb him - maybe he’d recalled something at the game, maybe he was in the midst of a memory-
“Ginny!” he gasped, dropping the omnioculars into his lap as he noticed her standing in front of him.
“Sorry, I never meant to startle you-”
“You were excellent out there!” he said, sincere admiration lighting his face. “Breathtaking.”
Ginny grinned and shrugged. “Thanks...”
“And Quidditch beats all sports, maybe even football!” He shook his head in amazement. “Broomsticks - who would’ve imagined all that’s true?”
So the game hadn’t helped him remember. Ginny insides were caving in on themselves. She had been so sure... he had loved Quidditch so much-
“Are you okay? How’s your arm?”
Ginny’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “What... How in Merlin’s name did you know?”
“I was watching the replays,” He picked up the omnioculars. “Your broom, when it broke - the break was right underneath your fingers. Looked pretty awful.”
“Bloody hell, can I take a look at that?”
He nodded, handing her the omnioculars. They were Ron’s, the fancy special edition ones Ollie had bought him for Christmas a couple of years ago. Only coaches and team captains had them. They were bright silver and had every feature imaginable on a series of small dials along the side - Ginny could zoom right in.
She turned the history button back one notch, to show the last scene Sean had been studying. She gulped as she saw Ted Wilder, only ten feet away from her, wind up and slam the Bludger directly at her, a completely malicious act. She pressed the slow motion button, watching the Bludger head towards her. Her Firebolt buckled with the impact, and she watched it give out, the wood beneath her hands breaking, pressing her fingers outwards with extreme force. She cringed. She was lucky she’d been holding the broom like Oliver had taught her to, she realized, something he’d developed as a Keeper to minimize shock. Sean’s viewing angle was perfect. Her hand was likely broken.
She held her breath and watched herself fall into a tailspin. Seeing the loss of control, her body whipping around as though she was in a tornado made her uncomfortable. With the shaky fingers on her damaged left hand, she turned the silver history dial back two clicks.
When she released it, she saw herself again. She watched for a few moments. It was a minute or so earlier in the game, right before she’d scored her second goal. She watched as Sean’s omnioculars stayed trained on her as she caught the pass and flew towards the goal, hurling the Quaffle through the hoop. As she turned around, she noticed the big victorious smile on her face. Tendrils of her hair had escaped her braid and they blew against her cheek as she laughed.
And suddenly, the image zoomed. Ginny’s fingers were nowhere near the zoom dial - she was simply re-watching the history, whatever scenes had just been viewed. Another close-up of her face as she smiled, lips slightly parted, and cheeks flushed pink. And once more, without her impetus, the scene rewound. He must have... but he couldn’t have, really? Did he rewind that scene again? It was the same moment right after the goal, Ginny’s face, and her smile. She realized that she actually looked quite pretty in the image, not yet sweaty and dirty like she was at the end of a match, but slightly windblown, her eyes aglow.
The scene rewound again. Ginny bit the inside of her lip, and slowly lowered the omnioculars.
“Wow...”
“Did it hurt?” Sean looked at her concernedly. “Would you like if I took a look at it?”
“Took a look at what?” Ginny said innocently, consciously flashing the same slow-motion smile as she had in the scene she had just viewed in the omnioculars. Sean’s eyes dropped to her mouth.
“At your hand, of course,” he replied matter-of-factly, patting the step next to him.
Ginny sat down, letting him take her injured hand in his. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
“Yeah, I think so. I took first aid classes, and I helped the medic on our football team now and then. I certainly know a broken bone when I see one...” He began to move his fingers incredibly slowly and gently, feeling from the tips of each of Ginny’s fingers down towards her palm, each palpitation feather- light.
“No bruising?”
“Yes, but I charmed it away...” Ginny’s voice was slightly breathy.
“Really? You can do that?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ll have to show me that later... but for now, just tell me when it hurts, okay?”
Ginny nodded, holding her breath. What had she gotten herself into? He didn’t know, he couldn’t know. How could Sean know that the touch of those hands, Harry’s hands, had always rendered her an absolute wreck?
“Right there,” Ginny finally managed. “It, uh, it hurts just a little bit.” He was pressing on her first finger, just below the knuckle.
“Okay,” he whispered, gliding his fingers gently to the center of her palm. “Does pressure here hurt?”
“Not really,” she replied. His long fingers were cool against her skin.
“How about here?” His fingers had moved to the cup the flesh at the base of her thumb, massaging gently.
“No, that feels good,” Ginny said quietly.
Sean raised an eyebrow and Ginny bit the inside of her lip. This wasn’t really a medical exam, was it? No mediwizard had ever massaged her hand during the course of treatment - and she’d had a lot of exams on that wonky left hand. But of course, she had known Harry intimately, she knew those hands, and those hands knew her. She couldn’t forget the things those hands had done…
“I think your finger’s probably broken, just above the lowest knuckle,” he replied. Ginny was pleased to note a slight quaver in his voice. He’d stopped his caresses, but her hand still lay cupped inside both of his.
“You could be right,” Ginny replied, consciously keeping careful control of her voice as she withdrew her hand, letting her fingers slide lightly across his palm. “Maybe I should let Hermione have a look.”
“She can heal it with magic, right?”
“Yeah, a healing charm. I’ll be right as rain in a day or two.”
“No casts, just charms.,” Sean grinned. “I could really get used to this magic thing.”
“What’s a cast?”
“A hard plaster mold the doctors wrap around you to hold your bones still while they heal.”
“But this plaster, it doesn’t heal the bones together?”
“Nope.”
Ginny wrinkled her nose distastefully. “So it still hurts, I bet. That sounds awful.”
“I think charms are probably a step or two up from casts,” Sean replied, amused.
“Speaking of charms, did you buy a new wand yet?”
“I did. Moody took me to the shop yesterday.” He pulled a long slender wand from his back pocket. The wood looked slightly darker than his old wand. He looked at it a bit warily.
“Haven’t used it yet, have you?”
“I’m not supposed to,” Sean shrugged. “I’m going to the Ministry again tomorrow morning, and I might get to try it. The Aurors want to monitor my use for awhile; Moody can help me to regulate what I’m doing, he says.”
Ginny nodded. Sean probably didn’t realize that Harry was an incredibly strong wizard, the most powerful wizard of his generation. If he didn’t remember his spells properly, he could hurt himself.
Ginny heard an explosive burst of laughter from inside the house, and a happy shriek from her son. Uncle Fred and his Canary Cremes, she thought, grinning.
Sean noticed her redirected attention. “Maybe we should head inside...”
“Good idea.”
Ginny stood up, waiting by the door. Sean stood too, the black depths of his hair glowing slightly blue in the fading light. He stretched his arms above his head and yawned. Ginny tried not to look at the space of skin between his shirt and jeans, at the hard muscles of his stomach, at the silhouette of his body against the sun. It was like one of her dreams - he was so beautiful. She forced herself to look away quickly.
“Uh, did you remember anything about Quidditch today?” Ginny asked, talking far too loudly, even to her own ears. “Did it ring any bells?”
“I don’t remember Quidditch,” he said, frustration lightly colouring his words. “It was vaguely familiar to me, but no specifics. Like everything else.”
“I’m sorry...”
Ginny’s hand was still on the door handle, but she suddenly didn’t want to go inside. It was wrong - he wasn’t Harry, not really - but she still wanted to spend more time alone with him, to watch the movements of that familiar mouth, to see it shape her name again.
“But I did spot the Snitch through these binoculars almost a full minute before either of the Seekers saw it!”
Ginny laughed. “Of course you did, Harry!”
“Sean.”
“What?”
“You called me Harry, and not Sean.”
“Oh.,” Ginny felt a sudden pang somewhere deep in her chest. “Oh, Merlin. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he shrugged, looking somewhat embarrassed. “I don’t know why I said anything about it. I don’t really care what you call me, as long as you pick one and go along with it.”
“Right,” Ginny replied, her cheeks hot. “Sean. Sorry about that. Your life’s confusing enough right now without having people calling you two different names.”
“It’s no problem,” he said, with a warm smile. “Really, it isn’t. Harry’s what you’re used to, after all.” Sean’s face was warm and friendly, but his eyes, something in his eyes was sad, and it tore at Ginny’s heart. He reached behind her and pulled the door open, gesturing inside like a gentleman.
“Shall we?”
Chapter 11: Chapter 10: Reflections
Ginny was normally ravenous after a game, but on that particular evening, her mother’s twilight dinner in the garden tasted like sawdust in her mouth. It was lucky that Ollie had climbed on her lap and devoured most of the food on her plate - no one noticed her poor appetite, or the fact that the toddler had more mashed potatoes and gravy down the front of his shirt than usual.Ginny blamed her lack of appetite on the healing charm an irate Hermione had performed a few minutes before the meal began. Ginny’s entire body was numb, and it was always a strange feeling, the itchy burning sensation of broken bones as they magically knit themselves together. The unsettling feeling would last all night, but it was better than the pain.
Hermione kept sending her sister-in-law disapproving looks across the table, she’d been right pissed that Ginny hadn’t consulted a medic immediately upon noticing the pain in her hand during the game. Ginny stared at the table, in retrospect, she could see that Hermione was right. But those angry looks weren’t the only reason Ginny wasn’t eating.
She had the misfortune of being seated beside Sean at the overcrowded picnic table. Ginny wouldn’t have considered this a problem earlier today, but after their time on the front porch, Ginny sincerely wished she could hide from him for awhile. His closeness was distracting, especially since she had begun to notice that he smelled exactly like Harry used to smell, like fresh cut grass and something else distinctly masculine and unique. Ginny wanted to bury her face in his neck and breathe him in, to savour the flood of very pleasant memories the warmth of his skin against hers would rekindle.
But Sean wasn’t really Harry. She had to tell herself that every few minutes. Harry wasn’t a reality anymore.
And Sean had a girlfriend. Ginny had overheard Ron and Harry talking about her earlier. She had been helping her mum in the kitchen, and the boys' conversation had drifted in from the porch, through the open window.
"Sean, you should come for dinner Friday night," Ron said, "Come by around 7. We can go down to the Three Broomsticks after, have a few butterbeers."
"I've got somewhere to be that night," Harry said awkwardly.
"What? Do you have a hot date or something?" Ron snickered. Ginny wanted to throw the tea towel she was holding out the window at her brother's big stupid head.
"Sort of," Sean replied. "I actually have to drop by my girlfriend's place around 8-"
Just then, Ollie upset his pumpkin juice behind her with a large crash, and Ginny missed the rest of the conversation. It was a good thing, she thought uneasily. She really didn't need to hear anything else - it was none of her business anyways. It just made her feel even more uncomfortable.
“... and there was that pass, about an hour in.” Ron’s voice cut across the dinner table, disturbing her reverie. “I haven’t seen you miss a pass like that since you were a rookie, Gin. It was like someone sent a jelly-legs jinx at your hand.”
Ginny snapped back to reality. Ron looked at her curiously, stuffing another giant piece of roast beef in his mouth.
“Now, Ronald, your sister is obviously shaken up by the the game - look! She hasn’t touched her green beans,” Molly Weasley scolded.
“Yeah Ron, leave her alone!” Charlie added threateningly.
But Fred didn’t even pause to swallow before adding his two cents. “And there was that other pass-”
“-in the last quarter hour,.” George finished. “Was it a dud pass, or is something wonky with your-”
“By any chance were my old Quidditch robes red?” Sean interrupted, a curious look on his face.
“You remember?” Hermione almost jumped across the table, which had fallen silent as the entire family looked over at Sean hopefully.
“Maybe. I don’t know. I recall wearing some sort of red robes, a lot like the robes I saw at the game today. Does that sound right?”
Sean nudged Ginny gently with his leg, and Ginny’s heart swelled with gratitude. He was diverting attention away from her. Her mother and father would go batty if they knew of her hand - even minor Quidditch mishaps such as this one had become apocalyptic in their eyes since Oliver’s accident. They would have railed at her for weeks to quit flying.
Ginny reached down with her uninjured hand and squeezed Sean’s hand in thanks. A friendly gesture, a thank you that also sated the nearly irresistible urge Ginny had been feeling all through the meal to just touch him somehow. Sean squeezed back, the corner of his mouth twitching with a smile.
“Was it a darker shade of red?” Hermione was treating the situation as though Sean had just had a major Harry-related breakthrough; however Ginny knew it was just another random detail. Ginny had noticed that Sean remembered lots of these sorts of bits from Harry’s life - just little things that didn’t quite add up to complete memories.
“Sure. I’d say closer to maroon than to crimson.”
Hermione smiled triumphantly around the table. “You see? Exposure to these sorts of familiar and exciting activities is really helpful for you, Sean. I can’t wait until our Hogwarts weekend - I think we’ll see some serious progress. I really do.”
“I sure hope so,” Sean replied with a smile.
***
Ginny lay in bed that night, tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable position for her itchy healing arm, and failing. She felt silly, worried - what would her coach say tomorrow? If Sean had noticed the injury, surely her coach would have picked it out in the game review.
It was a big problem. But a far bigger problem lay in the fact that Ginny had become certain that she wanted Sean to notice more than just her arm. And it would seem he wanted it too, or so the constant replays of her smiling face seemed to indicate.
“He isn’t Harry,” she whispered into the darkness. Her brain knew this, but it seemed as though rest of her body hadn’t bothered to notice. The way he moved, the quiet of his eyes, the touch of his hands - they were so familiar, they made her insides ache. She’d spent just an hour after dinner at her parents’ - she couldn’t take her eyes off him. He’d sat down next to her on the sofa, and Ginny felt goose-bumps rise on her skin. He made her feel positively adolescent.
She sighed and buried her head in the pillow, emotionally drained and confused. She couldn’t do this - she had her son to think about now. She couldn’t allow herself to feel this way about someone she barely knew - after all, Ginny had only known Sean for a matter of days. She’d known Harry, but she had no idea who the new person inhabiting his space really was.
Besides that, he had a girlfriend. What was she thinking?
All she knew for certain was that, whoever Sean was, something about him made her heart race.
She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She hadn’t felt this way with Oliver.
Only Harry.
Perhaps it was a kind of muscle memory - her every sense responding to the very real physicality of Harry Potter standing there in front of her. Her first love. Some sort of hormonal thing, maybe.
Except he wasn’t Harry.
So it was just an infatuation. That was easy to deal with. If it was just a physical thing, she’d simply remove herself from the problem. Avoid spending time with him for awhile, and it would go away.
Unless he remembered who he was.
A cold trickle of uncertainty started down Ginny’s spine when she thought of Harry remembering everything. Harry remembering all their stupid in-jokes, all their friends from Hogwarts. Harry remembering the day he saved her in the Chamber of Secrets. Remembering their first kiss. Remembering how much he used to love her, how they had once planned to be together forever, how perfectly they fit together, how happy they both were just to be in the same room just knowing the other person was near.
And he’d remember the promises he made to her. He’d remember how, after Dumbledore’s funeral, she had told him she would wait for him. Both of them had known she’d meant longer than the war. She’d meant forever.
And she had broken that promise.
Ginny sat up, and slid her old purple slippers onto her feet. She got up and left the room, stopping in the hallway in front of one of her wedding photos. She ran her fingers across the slight dust that had accumulated on the frame, and smiled softly at the memory, as she always did. In the photo, Ginny was smiling shyly at the camera, and Oliver was standing behind her, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Sometimes, if she stood and watched for a few minutes, he would lean down and press his lips against her cheek, and the Ginny in the photo would giggle. It was a picture taken near the end of the evening - they were both a little flushed with champagne and dancing, and Oliver’s face was slightly unshaven, his hair sticking up in the back. He had lost his necktie at some point in the evening - they’d never found it. He looked amazing, they had been so happy. Her wedding was a brilliant memory; Ginny hadn’t felt any uncertainty that day. How could it have been a mistake?
Ginny walked past, inching open the door of her son’s little blue bedroom. Ollie had kicked off the covers and was curled in a ball in the middle of his bed, his thumb in his mouth. As Ginny picked up the blanket and placed it gently over her son, he rolled over and smiled sweetly. A tear rolled down Ginny’s cheek. Marrying Oliver hadn’t been a mistake. It had been the best decision she’d ever made.
“Mummy.” Ollie’s eyes opened and he reached towards her. She hastily wiped her tears on the sleeve of her nightgown and picked him up.
“You want to sleep with me?”
He nodded, nestling against her shoulder and yawning.
Ginny carried him back to her room and placed the tired toddler in her bed. She kicked her slippers under her bed, curled her arms around her son. She couldn’t think about Sean, or Harry, or anyone else when her whole world was right there in her arms.
Chapter 12: Chapter 11 - Hogwarts
“-so then Coach said he couldn’t believe I hadn’t immediately gotten off my broom and had it looked to. Even though they would have had to sub in the rookie, McRobbie. And he’d have been pulverized by the Bats’ defense - you know he’s not fast enough.”Ron glared at her angrily over his coffee. Ginny had decided to come clean and tell her brothers what had happened to her hand - she was horrible at keeping things secret anyway.
“Stop making excuses, Ginny!”
“I’m not... oh hell, you’re right. I am...”
“Your coach is absolutely right! You can’t just be flying with an injury like that. If it’d been any worse, you’d have had permanent damage,” Hermione said lightly. The Leaky Cauldron was full at this hour with wizards and witches in for the Saturday breakfast special, plus Ollie was banging two spoons together and babbling nonsensically. One almost had to yell to be heard.
“And what about the bloody play-offs?” Ron moaned, burying his head in his hands.
“We probably wouldn’t have made it very far, anyways.” Ginny wiped ketchup off her son’s chin. “I still scored sixty points by the way - you’re acting as though I was bloody useless!”
‘I know...” Ron whinged. “It’s just... It’s the Cannons, Ginny! In the play-offs!”
Ginny rolled her eyes - the Cannons were some sort of religion to Ron. They were a wonderful team, it was true, her first choice in the League, but she didn’t swear unending devotion to them. She would never tell Ron, but she could definitely see herself playing for another team someday, if the opportunity arose.
“You’re right, Ron. I really should have had my hand looked to. I was just angry and I wasn’t thinking.”
“Next time...” Ron waved his fork threateningly at her.
“Next time, I’ll get off the pitch right away,” Ginny said obediently.
“You’d better,” Hermione chastised, wiping more food off Ollie’s chin. “Are you ready to go to Hogwarts, Ginny? - I noticed you didn’t bring a bag. We had all planned to leave from here, I thought.”
“I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it, actually,” Ginny replied casually. “I’m taking Ollie to see his Grandpa Wood for the afternoon - we’re way overdue for a visit, and then we’re at Tonks’ and Remus’ for dinner.”
“Oh, I’d thought you were coming with us,” Hermione said, disappointment evident on her face. “You’ll pop by tomorrow, right? We’re all staying the night in Gryffindor.”
Ginny searched in vain for an excuse. She hadn’t known they were there on Sunday - she’d only made plans for Saturday.
“I’ll see if I can make it,” she replied lamely.
“Oh, come early, won’t you? We’ll all have breakfast together! Dobby would love to see you, he asks about you all the time!”
“I need to fly a bit first - but maybe early afternoon?”
“You should bring your broom along - it would be good for Sean to get out on the Quidditch pitch with you and Ron. Just like old times - maybe that will help jog his memory!”
Ginny swallowed heavily and nodded. Avoiding Sean was going to be harder than she thought, at least this weekend.
“By the way, where is Sean?” Ron added, looking at his watch. “He’s awfully late.”
Sean was supposed to meet them here? Ginny almost cringed - how could she escape gracefully, without making it obvious why she was leaving?
“He mentioned something last night about going to see Chrissy- OW! Merlin, why’d you kick me?” Ron glared at Hermione, his brows knit.
“Sorry, dear - my foot slipped. Ginny do you want more tea? There’s a bit left in the teapot-”
“It’s okay, Hermione,” Ginny said. “It shouldn’t bother me to hear you talking about Sean’s girlfriend.”
But it did bother her. It more than bothered her: Ginny’s stomach was currently twisting itself into angry knots. However, she knew she had absolutely no right to feel anything resembling jealousy.
“It’s perfectly understandable if it does bother you, Ginny,” Hermione said, as though she was reading her friend’s mind.
“You don’t have to hide it. I mean, it’s Harry-”
“But that’s just it,” Ginny interrupted tersely. “He really isn’t Harry, is he? Sean might look exactly like Harry, but who you are, your personality, is based on your environment, on what you’ve perceived from the world around you, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is, but-”
“-And Sean’s completely unaware of the things that Harry experienced. He doesn’t have those memories. He hasn’t any idea what shaped Harry and made him into the person he was. He hasn’t felt the things Harry has felt, or known the people Harry has known. Therefore, he’s not Harry. He’s a completely different person.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “That’s... logical.”
“I know it is. It makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“I guess, in a way...”
“How ‘bout when he remembers everything?” Ron interjected, his mouth half-full again. “What then?”
Ginny shrugged. “I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“Well, you were his girlfriend. I suppose he might want that bit of his old life back.”
“I was his girlfriend. But that was a long time ago. I chose to marry someone else, didn’t I?”
“So when you married Oliver, those eight odd years of Harry Potter, your first true love, singing valentines and all, just vanished - OW!” Ron rubbed his side again. Hermione had elbowed him, rather obviously this time obviously.
“Ronald Bilius Weasley, where is your sensitivity? Do you even hear the ridiculous things you’re saying?”
Ginny looked seriously at her brother. “Imagine you’ve been kidnapped or something for four years, Ron, and you come
back to find Hermione’s gone off and married... oh, I don’t know... Anthony Goldstein! How would you feel?”
“But, Ginny-”
Ginny shook her head. She didn’t want to delve any deeper into the debate. “Let’s get back to the point here. I have no reason to be jealous of Sean - or Harry, for that matter. He can date anyone he pleases. So can I.” She crossed her arms stubbornly across her chest.
“Hermione would never marry Goldstein,” Ron declared. “He was at least an inch shorter than her. She likes tall blokes.”
The two girls looked at each other and burst into laughter.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice you avoiding the real question, Gin!” Ron waved the remaining half of his sandwich at her.
“There is no real question,” Ginny replied aloofly, casting a cleaning spell on Ollie’s messy jumper.
“So if Harry walked in here right now, and asked you out again, tell me you wouldn’t jump on him like a flobberworm on rotten lettuce!”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Brilliant analogy, Ron. But there is no Harry.”
“Bloody hell, Sean, then! Whatever you call him!”
“I don’t know Sean well enough to jump at anything.”
“Mommy! Potty!” Ollie hollered, clambouring across his mother’s lap. “I gotta go!”
“Excuse us,” Ginny said tersely, picking up her son and quickly dashed towards the bathroom. Ollie had excellent timing. But if her thick-headed brother had noticed last night’s attraction to Sean that meant everyone else in the family had probably noticed too. How pathetic she must have looked.
She helped her son wash his hands, looking at herself appraisingly in the mirror. Ollie had been extra hyperactive that morning, and she’d spent most of her time chasing him around the house while he screeched with laughter - she hadn’t had any time for cosmetic charms. Her long hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, and during breakfast Ollie had somehow left a ketchup handprint on the shoulder of her blouse. She felt exhausted and looked awful.
She held the bathroom door open for her son, who ran back towards the table cheerfully. Ginny’s heart plunged into her stomach when she spotted the new arrival at their table. She watched Sean pick her son up in his arms, swinging him around in a big hug. He smiled over at her, as Ollie giggled with delight in his arms.
Ginny smiled back vaguely, and reached towards her robes on the coat rack. This plan to avoid Sean, it was starting now.
“Are we leaving for Hogwarts already?” Sean asked, looking curiously at the robes in Ginny’s arms as he sat down, Ollie’s arms still glued around his neck. Sean’s hair was sticking up on the back of his head as though he’d just woke up - he looked as though he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. Ginny remembered the reason he was late, and a bitter flame of jealousy shot across her chest.
“They’re not coming with us,” Ron looked over at her. “Are you, Gin?”
“I’m afraid we can’t,” Ginny said, hoping she sounded apologetic.
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” Sean said. He looked genuinely disappointed.
“Another time, maybe.”
“She’ll be at Hogwarts tomorrow though,” Hermione quipped. “Won’t you, Ginny?”
“Ollie’s a real terror in the morning, but if I can get him calmed down-”
“He can run around the castle with us - that’ll keep him busy,” Ron said, glaring pointedly at Ginny. “We’ll be waiting for you.”
“Sure. Well, we really should get going then. Come on, Ollie.” Ginny said brightly, reaching out for her son, who reluctantly let go of Sean’s neck. He stared up at his new favourite uncle, his lower lip wobbling as though he were about to cry.
Sean crouched down in front of Ollie and ruffled his hair gently.
“It’s okay, little guy, I’ll see you tomorrow. We can play all day long if you want.”
There was tenderness in his voice that made Ginny’s heart ache. She couldn’t look at Sean with his perfectly scruffy bed- head, with the smile on his face as he hugged her son. Why did he have to be so bloody gorgeous?
“Buh Bye, Uncle. I love you!”
Ron shook his head in amazement. “The guy’s back for two weeks and he’s already begun the campaign to displace me
as favourite uncle. Feeding the kid candy secretly, I’ll bet.”
“I love you too, Ollie,” Sean laughed. Ginny couldn’t avoid meeting his eyes as he stood up. “See you tomorrow, Ginny.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly, feeling short of breath as she picked up her son to Disapparate. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough. “ ‘Bye everyone.”
She arrived with a snap in front of Mr. Wood’s house, the house her husband had grown up in, set back on a quiet street on the edge of Hogsmeade. Ollie, who seconds ago had been sniffling into her shoulder, clapped his hands delightedly.
“Grampoo!” he yelled, waving at the front porch. She set him down and watched him run across the grass and leap into his grandfather’s arms. Mr. Wood was waiting for them, of course. He lived alone - Ginny knew they didn’t visit him often enough - sometimes it felt as though visiting every day wouldn’t be often enough to comfort this man who had lost his entire family. Ollie was his only tie to his only son.
“Ginny, dear, you look so lovely... Well, maybe a little tired, but you’re always absolutely beautiful.” Mr. Wood fussed, wrapping an arm around his daughter-in-law’s shoulders. Ginny grinned - her father in law reminding her where Oliver had gotten his sweet- talking skills from. “Would you like some tea?”
“Oh, no thank you. I just had some.”
Mr. Wood nodded. “Well, I think you should go have yourself a nice rest. Or go shopping, dear! Buy something that makes you feel as pretty as you are. I can handle this little one for a few hours.”
“You know, I’d really appreciate that,” Ginny replied warmly. Ollie was running up and down the porch, waving a stick he had found on the ground like a wand. A day of quiet would be wonderful - Ginny could think a little, make a concrete plan to clear her head of this Sean nonsense for good. “I’ll be here around tea time to get him. Is that okay?”
“That sounds perfect - enough time for me to spoil my grandson rotten with Chocolate Frogs, and even enough time for him to wear off the sugar rush so as not to drive you crazy later.” Mr. Wood hugged her, and she laughed.
“He’s becoming a real handful, even without the chocolate.”
“It keeps me young, dear.”
Ginny tried to kiss her son goodbye, but he kept giggling and running away, not disturbed one bit by the prospect of being left with Grandpa and his supply of chocolate. With a shrug and a wave, she Disapparated.
***
Ginny let Ollie toddle ahead as they reached Hogwarts’ grounds the next morning. The school was quiet - students wouldn’t be arriving for another week. She had decided to walk to the castle from Hogsmeade in hopes that it would put a dent in a certain little boy’s persistent supply of energy, but the fresh air seemed only to invigorate him. Ginny chased a breathlessly giggling Ollie, up to the front doors, which swung open in welcome at their approach. She took a deep breath as she picked up her son and headed inside. She could do this.
Yesterday, Ginny had decided she should use her free time while Ollie was with his grandpa to make a list of reasons that reinforced why Sean was bad for her. After avoiding the task by cleaning her house, and even going shoe shopping with Tonks, Ginny had sat down and set to it. The list wasn’t all that long - only five reasons, admittedly - but she definitely felt her inner resolve strengthened.
Ginny was keeping the first two reasons at the forefront of her mind that morning. The first reason was that Ollie would be confused by the entrance of a man into her life. He still had problems with the concept of Daddy - Ginny had spent countless hours showing her son photos of his father, and she thought that Ollie understood who he was to some degree. He could point to a photo with Oliver in it and say “Daddy!” but he thought of Daddy as a name, not a concept. Another name, just like Ron or Charlie or Bill or Remus. There was no emotional connection to the word like there was with Mommy. She couldn’t introduce that now - not if it wasn’t a permanent situation. Certainly not with someone she’d only known for a matter of days.
The second reason was so obvious it had already become her mantra. She would continue to repeat it inside her head every time Sean was in the same room as her: He’s not Harry. That pull she felt, that magnetism - it came from the part of her that still dreamed of Harry, the secret piece of her heart that had still thought longingly of him Harry, even while she’d been married to another man. It was dangerous and headstrong, but Ginny knew she could keep herself in check. Sean was not Harry.
Ginny and Ollie walked across the entrance hall, footsteps echoing on the stone floors. Hogwarts was different when it was empty of students - it was almost lonely, as though the old castle missed its’ halls being full of boisterous laughter. Even though it was only a building, it did sort of feel like a living thing, a caregiver that embraced each and every student that made its halls their home away from home.
Ginny picked Ollie up and headed up the staircase towards Gryffindor Common Room. Ollie pointed at everything he saw in great interest. He’d never been to such a big place before.
“And who else do we have back with us - oh, of course, it’s the littlest Weasley, the pretty little girl!” the Fat Lady sang from within her painting. She had two shepherdesses from a nearby pastoral scene over for tea, and they all craned their necks to look down at Ginny and Ollie, the latter of whom shrieked and clapped his hands, waving at the painting in excitement.
“Why, thank you!” Ginny said, smiling warmly. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“What a darling little boy!” The fat lady cooed, reaching down with her chubby fingers as though she’d like to have pinched Ollie’s cheeks. “You and Harry Potter have started a family already, have you? How sweet!”
“Um, no. Not exactly.” Ginny said, her cheeks becoming pink. “Actually, my husband was Oliver Wood. He was a Gryffindor, too.”
Ginny watched in alarm as the voluminous painted chins started to quiver. The Fat Lady threw her hand across her face dramatically and collapsing in a heap at the bottom of the canvas, burst into a violent sobbing fit. It was so high-pitched and awful that Ginny cupped her hands over Ollie’s ears.
“OH, OH! I HEARD WHAT HA-HAPPENED,” she howled, as the shepherdesses tried to pick up her wilting body, prodding at the crumpled pile of painted scarlet silk and muslin with their herding staffs. “His loss - It was all the students would talk of for weeks! Your husband was adored by so many.”
“Thank you for your condolences,” Ginny said, with a demure smile, trying to hide the horrible face her son was making at the fat lady in protest of her hysterics.
“And so you’re here to see your friends! To take solace in the familiar halls of your childhood! To forget the awful, awful tragedy which your life must have become, now that you have lost your companion and lover!”
“Uh, sure-”
But the Fat Lady wasn’t finished. “... to stem the awful tide of loneliness! To help you overcome the overwhelming worry you must constantly feel as a young widow, even if it’s just for a moment. How I pity you, dear! Oh, the horrible HORRIBLE pressure of such a life-”
“Something like that, yes,” Ginny interrupted loudly, trying not to laugh. “I should be getting in there, then, before the... uh, agonizing loneliness overtakes me. Hermione owled me the password. It’s-”
“-memories,” A voice behind her said. Ginny spun around.
Sean, Hermione and Ron were standing right behind her. They had obviously overheard the Fat lady’s ranting. But Ron was doing a much poorer job of hiding his amusement with the Fat Lady than Ginny. His face was positively purple with laughter, his hands clamped over his mouth. Hermione elbowed him, smiling graciously at the Fat Lady.
The painted women all glared at Ron as the door swung open. As she passed, Ginny heard the Fat Lady mumbling about how stupid brothers could be, and then the stupid brother in question pushed past her and Ollie and through the doorway, bursting into laughter.
“Oh MERLIN, Gin!” Ron gasped.! “Thanks a heap for coming all the way out here! We all do understand the heart-ripping loneliness you’ve been feeling as a widow. That is, when you’ve not been playing your fancy professional Quidditch games, or trouncing about your fancy house, or shopping for shoes with your army of girlfriends-”
“Oh, be quiet, Ron!” Ginny said, through her own laughter, putting her son down and noting with dismay how he made a beeline for Sean, his little arms outstretched gleefully. “What army of girlfriends?”
“Well, just Tonks, really. And Hermione. They’re both bossy enough to make up an army.”
“Oh, quiet, you twit!” Hermione swatted her husband and moved to hug Ginny. “It’s good you’re here. We’ve just been on a walk through the castle. Sean knows where everything is - he basically led the tour.”
“Wow! You remembered?” Ginny said brightly. “That’s amazing!”
Sean shrugged moodily, a bit of a feat given that Ollie was climbing him like a tree. “I don’t remember anything else. Just where things are, not what they are. Rather defeats the point, I think.”
Hermione looked pointedly at Ginny, her voice extra cheery. “Ron was thinking you three could go out to the Quidditch pitch for an hour or two this afternoon.”
“That sounds good, actually. I brought my new broom - it was just delivered this morning. I haven’t even taken it up yet.”
“Cookie!” Ollie yelled, planting a wet kiss on Sean’s cheek. “Uncle, pweeze! I want a cookie!”
“Ollie barely ate breakfast this morning - a little snack might be a good idea. Can we head down to the kitchens?”
“Yes! Dobby would love to meet Ollie! You should see how well he’s doing supervising the other free elves in the kitchen! They have a union and everything!” Hermione replied, her face glowing. Sean and Ron exchanged a look - Ginny could tell they’d probably both already had their fill of house elves and SPEW on this trip.
Hermione pulled on Ginny’s arm. “We’ll meet you boys down there,” she yelled back over her shoulder, yanking Ginny through the portrait hole.
“What the-”
“Ginny, you have got to talk with Sean,” Hermione whispered urgently, looking back over her shoulder.
“What? Why me!”
“He’s... he’s so frustrated and aloof! Untouchable! I thought the trip would bring us all closer, but it’s not helping. Neither Ron or I can say or do anything to help anymore - he just seems tired of this. He’s sick of not remembering his old life, and worse, he’s sick of all of us expecting him to.” Hermione pulled her down the hallway. “I think, if we don’t act fast, we might lose him.”
“You do?”
Hermione looked at her seriously. “I really do, Ginny. He could disappear back into Muggle London one day, and we’d never hear from him again. What’s stopping him?”
“Nothing...” Ginny replied quietly. It was true. Without memories, he had nothing tying him to them. He could very easily leave without a word to anyone, this time for good.
“Well, I’ll talk to him,” Ginny replied in a whisper, hearing the boys heading down the hallway behind her. “Not sure what good it’ll be, but I’ll try my best.”
“What are you lot whispering about?” Ron asked, running a little bit to catch up with them. Sean strolled behind them, Ollie’s little hand in his. Ginny could hear her son chattering away to his new favourite uncle, nonsense and half words.
“Oh, just girl talk!” Hermione said brightly, glancing pointedly over her shoulder at Sean. Ron caught the message behind the look, and nodded seriously at Ginny.
“Ron, love, remember this corridor!” Hermione said, yanking on her husband’s sleeve. “The broom closet at the end?”
“How could I forget?” Ron grinned smugly, as his wife pulled him down the corridor. “Now’s your chance! Talk to him!” he mouthed as his wife pulled him away.
Ginny blanched. She had to talk to him now? Part of her wanted to follow Hermione and Ron. She had absolutely no clue how to convince Sean to stick around, if that was even what he needed convincing of. The last thing Ginny wanted was to be left alone with him, and it had already happened, only minutes after she arrived. She leaned against the wall resignedly, waiting for Sean and Ollie to catch up. She closed her eyes and repeated her mantra in her head. He’s not Harry.
“I sure hope you’re serious about remembering where things are, Sean, because after the turn here, I get all confused, ” Ginny quipped brightly as he approached.
“Sorry we fell behind. Ollie’s been telling me stories, haven’t you?” He grinned down at the little boy.
“What kind of tall tales have you been telling your uncle Sean?” Ginny asked her son.
Ollie shrieked and ran over to hug his mom’s leg.
Sean grinned. “Oh, something about a sandwich and a cookie and his mommy and a dragon.”
“He’s got a great imagination when he’s hungry,” Ginny said, reaching down to tickle her son’s belly.
“Where did Hermione and Ron go, anyhow?” Sean asked, his hands stuffed in his pockets.
“They... uh, they took a little detour at the last corridor.”
“But all that’s down there is a broom closet, isn’t it?”
Ginny smirked. “Oh, that’s not just any broom closet.”
Sean just looked at her blankly. Everyone who’d been to Hogwarts, whether they had a significant other or not, knew almost instinctively that broom closets were designed not for brooms, but for snogging - the closet Hermione and Ron were in was especially popular for Gryffindors, being that it was the closest to the common room.
Ginny tried to act casual, ignoring the fact that her blushing cheeks would betray her anyhow. “Well, uh... by this point they’re probably... you know.”
Sean blinked and his mouth crooked in a smile. “...I see.”
“That’s the real use of the closets around this place. Co-ed school and all,” Ginny shrugged. She was a grown-up, or at least she was pretending to be one. Teenage snogging was no big deal.
“Right,” Sean said with a grin. “There’s another closet just up here, isn’t there? To the right. Strange how I remember the location of these closets almost better than I do the classrooms.”
“Oh, we spent loads of time in these closets,” Ginny quippedjoked casually.
“Oh? How... interesting?” Sean said, a mischievous smile dancing at the corners of his mouth.
Ginny froze, her chest suddenly burning with embarrassment. What in Merlin’s name had she just said? She clapped her hands over her mouth. Ollie pointed up at her and laughed.
“It’s okay, Gin,” Sean said, now grinning widely. “We were going together when we were in school. I already knew that.”
“Right,” Ginny replied, hoping they weren’t passing any more closets on the way to the kitchens. She pushed her hair behind her ears and tried to regain her composure, which was basically impossible at this point. Her cheeks felt as though they were on fire. Time to change the subject, she decided.
“But I was serious when I said that I hoped you knew your way to the kitchens. I get lost down these particular corridors after a certain point,” she said.
“I think I know where I’m at.”
“And.. uh... how are you at with the rest of it? Are we driving you totally bonkers with all these things you’re to remember?”
Sean swung a giggling Ollie up onto his shoulders and then looked over at her seriously. “Ron and Hermione, they asked you to talk to me, right?”
“Not really...” she began lamely. “Okay, so maybe they did. Is that a bad thing?”
“I guess not,” he said. “I’ve been a bit of a chore to be around this weekend, I think. I should have told them what happened Friday night...”
“What happened? Maybe I can help...”
He shook his head. “I don’t think you can help.”
“Try me!”
“Well, it’s a bit of a long story really.”
“I’m all ears. You'll probably feel better if you talk to someone.”
He looked a bit nervous. “Well, I went to visit Chrissy on Friday. I’d been doing some serious thinking about where our relationship was headed - and there was something important I needed to ask her.”
Ginny’s blood suddenly ran cold, and her brain filled in the blanks. He was going to ask her to marry him. Or maybe she was going to move in with him at Grimmauld Place. Did Chrissy even know that Sean was a wizard? If she did, was she suspicious of their world? Maybe that’s why he was acting distant, she’d said she’d marry him, and right now he was planning on leaving the Wizarding world, going back to his other life-
“I dropped in at her apartment Friday, around ten.” he continued. “I knocked, and nobody answered, so I used my key. I thought I’d just wait around for her a bit - figured she was probably out with her girlfriends at some club. I turned on the telly and just lazed about on the couch for awhile, waiting. She came back around midnight. And, uh, she wasn’t exactly alone, if you know what I mean.”
“You mean...”
Sean looked at her significantly.
“She didn’t bring another bloke home, did she?” Ginny’s jaw hung open.
“She sure did. One of my football mates.” Sean replied.
“Oh Sean! That must have been awful.”
“It was. It was strange, I almost laughed at first.”
“How could you laugh?” Ginny asked, shocked.
“Well, she’d made it so easy for me! There I was sitting there in her flat, trying to figure out a nice way to let her down, and she went and did all the work for me.”
“Let her down?”
“I was going to break it off, obviously. I’ve been considering it for a while now, trying to figure out how I could end the relationship with the least drama, and now - well, there’s not much we have in common at this point, is there? If she found out the truth about my past, well, let’s just say it wouldn’t be pretty. She likes things to be normal, you know? She couldn’t handle that - I was already pretty off- the- wall for someone like her anyhow.”
“You’re not off- the- wall at all, Sean,” Ginny defended him.
“Thanks.”
“So that’s why you’ve been upset this weekend?”
“Yeah, I can’t believe she’d go off with a friend of mine. Even though I’d had my suspicions for awhile - I was planning on confronting her about it on Friday, ironically. - I never thought she’d stoop so low as to carry on with one of my mates.”
“So that was the important thing you needed to ask her? Whether she’d been mucking around with other blokes behind your back?”
“Yeah,” Sean nodded. “Why - what did you think? That I was going to ask her to move in with me at my scary wizard mansion?” He laughed.
Ginny laughed too - a bit too loudly, maybe.
“Ha - of course not!”
“She wasn’t really my type of girl anyhow-”
“Right. She seemed-”
“Overbearing,” he interrupted. “Bossy. Not all that smart. Really into herself, mostly. She didn’t give two pence what was happening to those around her. Plus, she was spoiled, loved spending her Daddy’s trust fund on the most absurd, frivolous things.”
“So why were you even together in the first place?”
“It’s stupid, really. You’ll just laugh at me for being such a git. And rightly you should, I suppose...”
“C’mon!” Ginny poked him in the ribs playfully. “I won’t laugh!”
He feigned injury. “Well, if you’re going to get all violent...”
Ginny laughed, pretending she was winding up to throw a punch. Sean cowered, and Ollie giggled.
“I’ve got a mighty strong left hook, Sean Collins,” she warned.
“Okay, fine!” he said. “I’ll tell you, but only because I’m deathly afraid you’ll beat me senseless.”
“Fair enough,” Ginny said, shrugging. “I permit you to speak.”
Sean laughed. “Okay, but no judging me! I admit I was an absolute git.”
“No passing judgement here, I promise!” Ginny made a cross over her heart.
“Well, I was at this club with some other footballers one night, and I saw her across the room. It was madness - there was something about the way she looked that I found so irresistible. So I went and talked to her, bought her a drink. I thought she was so beautiful, with those big brown eyes and that long red hair, so I just ignored the silly airhead things she kept saying constantly.”
“Oh, boys,” Ginny groaned.
Sean smirked. “Hey, we can’t help it!”
“Oh, likely excuse! You’re not going to be like that with girls, are you Ollie?” Ginny asked her son. “You’re a smart boy!”
“I’m VERY smart!” Ollie said assuredly. Ginny and Sean both cracked up.
“But it was never serious with us. It was a silly distraction: I think maybe I just wanted someone pretty to cheer for me at football games or something. And she just wanted a bloke around to tell her how nice she looked.”
“Well, it doesn’t give her the right to cheat on you.”
“No, it certainly doesn’t.”
“So, you’re okay?”
“I am, Ginny. I was just angry. I guess I owe Hermione and Ron an apology.”
“Just tell them,” Ginny said. “I’m sure they’ll understand.”
They turned a corner and arrived at a fork intersection.
“Which way do you want to go?” Sean asked. “Both take us there.”
“I don’t know. Which route is better?”
“Well, if we take the right fork, we’ll pass by three broom closets; on the left, there’s only two...”
“Oh, shush,” Ginny replied with a laugh, shoving his shoulder as they headed down the right hand corridor. “But seriously, Sean, the picture perfect way you remember the castle is amazing. Two broom closets versus three? Are you serious?”
Sean nodded, just as Ginny saw the painting of the fruit bowl appear ahead of them. “I think I might have had a good reason to know where those closets were, once upon a time.”
Ginny looked straight ahead, unable to ignore the little shiver down her spine.
Ollie yanked on the the pocket of her jeans. “Momma, I’m hungry!”
“We’re there, little guy,” Sean said, tickling the pear and watching the door to the kitchens swing open.
Chapter 13: Chapter 12 - Flight
“... so I just pulled up my shorts and kept running, gave the spectators a polite little wave, sort of a ‘thanks for checking out this display of professionalism and sportsmanship,’ you know?”Ginny sat on the couch in the common room, doubled over in laughter. For the past hour, Sean had been regaling her with tales of his mishaps on the football field, like the time he’d forgotten to tie the drawstring on the waistband of his shorts. During a particularly enthusiastic heading of the ball, they’d slid right down to his ankles.
“And someone actually snapped a photo of this?” Ginny asked, wiping tears of laughter off her cheeks.
“Sure did. Lovely shot, too. I’m poised in midair, the ball just about to bounce off my forehead, my face full of the fiercest concentration,” he sighed wistfully. “I never again wore my purple underwear on game day, I’ll tell you that much.”
Ginny had just taken a sip of the pumpkin juice they’d nicked from the kitchens, and had to cover her mouth to avoid spitting it all over him.
Sean pretended to look offended at her laughter. He looked down at Ollie who was perched very happily on his lap, munching on a biscuit. “How dare your mum laugh at me?. It was a humiliating moment. Very emasculating! You’d never laugh at me for something like that, would you, Ollie?”
Ollie, having not the faintest clue what the two adults were talking about, responded with a giggle.
“Okay, fine,” Sean assented, letting the smile at the corners of his mouth break across his entire face as he ruffled Ollie’s hair. “It was sort of funny, I suppose.”
“I’m afraid I have no Quidditch stories to match that one,” Ginny said, still recovering from her laughter. “I’ve fallen off my broom a couple times; oh, and once I flew into a post at practice, but all my clothing has remained intact.”
“Shame, that,.” Sean remarked dryly, and Ginny rolled her eyes. “Speaking of Quidditch, weren’t we all supposed to go play today? I’m pretty excited to try flying.”
“Where in blazes are Ron and Hermione?” Ginny asked, consulting her watch. “Maybe they’ve gone off to nab some lunch too. We could go on ahead, leave them a note.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Sean said, rising from the sofa, Ollie in his arms. “What do we do with this little guy while we’re up in the air?”
“Well, for the first bit, he can fly with me, as long as we take it slow. When Hermione shows up, she can watch him while we throw the Quaffle around.”
“She doesn’t fly?”
“Nope,” Ginny said, scrawling a messy note on a spare piece of parchment she’d found in her handbag. “She hates it. Afraid of heights, I think, though I dare you to try to get her to admit that.”
“What if I’m afraid of heights too?” Sean asked as they headed through the portrait hole.
“It’s unlikely - I mean, Harry wasn’t afraid of heights.”
“I guess you’re right,” Sean replied thoughtfully. “I don’t particularly like airplanes, though...”
“You’ve flown in an airplane? What was that like?” Ginny had inherited a bit of her father’s Muggle mania - airplanes were one of the things she was fascinated by. They seemed like such a strange idea.
“I think they’re awful,” Sean said. “I endure the journey rather than enjoy it. There’s something strange about entrusting your life to some big machine with wings, piloted by someone you’ve never met. Some mechanic forgets to tighten a single bolt, and the whole thing plunges into the ocean, right?”
“Well, on a broom, you have the control,” Ginny said as they wandered outside. “Not to say it isn’t a dangerous thing - it most certainly can be - but you don’t have to worry about some big, complex machine and all the things that could possibly go wrong therein. Just an ordinary broomstick with a few small enchantments. And if you fall off, there are always cushioning charms to guard against severe injury.”
“And charms to heal those broken bones.”
Ginny thought of her hand, now almost fully healed and only a little stiff. “Exactly.”
“I’m pretty excited about learning to do this Apparating thing. Moody said he’ll let me try next week.”
“Already?”
“I guess so,” Sean replied. “Moody seems like a careful bloke, and he seems confident that I’ll be okay.”
“So you’ve obviously been doing some spells and incantations, then?”
Sean grinned. “Sure have!”
“Like what?”
“Hmmm... I learned Cheering charms, and Alohamora, and a load of other things. Some Transfiguration - I turned a slip of parchment into a key.”
“
That’s pretty impressive Transfiguration, actually. I’d like to see that.”
Sean shrugged, and put a squirming Ollie down on the grass to run ahead of them. “I’d show you, but I’m not supposed to perform any unsupervised magic. Next week, though. Maybe I’ll come by and turn your flower beds into a swamp.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t!”
“Oh c’mon. I’d change it back, I swear,” Sean said, squinting into the distance. “Hey, it’s Ron and Hermione!”
Ginny followed his gaze. There were three figures talking near the entry to the Quidditch pitch. Ginny recognized the third person immediately by her pointed tartan hat - it was Headmistress McGonagall. They waved, and the three waved back.
“Have you met Professor McGonagall yet, Sean?”
“Yesterday morning,” Sean said. “In her office. I talked to her for quite some time, actually. She introduced me to Professor Dumbledore’s painting.”
“Wow...” Ginny said, wondering what words of advice Dumbledore would have bestowed upon a Harry Potter who had no real clue who he was.
“Dumbledore helped me piece some important things together in my head. I’m coming back next week to talk with him again.”
“Ginny, nice of you to visit us,” Professor McGonagall smiled at her, and then crouched down to a more child-friendly height. “Hello, Oliver. Aand how’s my favourite young man today?”
“Auntie Kitty!” Ollie crowed joyfully, hugging the old lady.
“He’s growing tall like his father already, isn’t he?” McGonagall smiled wistfully at the little boy, patting him on the head.
Professor McGonagall had been close to Oliver; their families were distantly related. At Ginny and Oliver’s wedding, she’d been seated in the front row, the very spot Oliver’s mother would have occupied had she been alive. Oliver had called her Aunt Minerva, which Ginny had secretly found hilarious. She never could have thought of her former Head of House by her first name.
The Headmistress had been over at their house for dinner a few times during their short marriage - Ginny remembered being shocked to the very core when she heard the serious old lady cracking jokes with Oliver over dessert one night. She’d given the most beautiful eulogy at Oliver’s funeral - Ginny knew she’d truly loved him like a son. She was almost Ollie’s surrogate grandmother, and she hadn’t seen the little boy in a month, Ginny thought, feeling guilty.
“I was hoping you’d find us down here,’ Ron said proudly. “The Headmistress just offered me Madame Hooch’s old teaching position!” He grinned widely. “No more clerking in Dad’s office for me!”
“What? This is brilliant news, Ron!” Ginny squealed, hugging her brother.
“It is. Close to home, too.” Ron and Hermione had a little house on the outskirts of Hogsmeade.
“Do you want to fly some drills?” Ron asked Ginny and Sean, his face flushed with elated happiness. “I might want some pointers from you, Gin.”
“I’d love to, Ron” Ginny rifled in her bag, casting an Engorgio charm on her new broom, which she had shrunk earlier to fit in her bag.
“I’ve got some reading to do. If you want, I can take Ollie back up to the library with me for an hour or two,” Hermione said.
Ginny looked over at her son playing peek-a- boo with Professor McGonagall. She tried to imagine him terrorizing Madame Pince’s pristine sanctuary with dirty fingers and howls of laughter.
“The library might not be the best idea...”
“I agree, Ginny. Surely, a library would be an inappropriate setting for such a young child,” the Headmistress said.
“However, Young Oliver is certainly welcome to come back to the castle with me for a few hours. I’m sure we can find something to amuse him in my office.”
Ginny tried not to smile. Professor McGonagall had earned the nickname “Auntie Kitty” after she’d transformed into a cat for little Ollie during his first birthday party. Because of that incident, “Kitty” had been Ollie’s second word, right after “Mummy.”
“I’m sure Oliver would enjoy that very much. Oliver, would you like to go back to the castle with Auntie Kitty for a little while?”
“Okay!” Ollie said enthusiastically, pointing at Sean. “Uncle come too?”
“I’m going to stay out here with your mum and Uncle Ron for awhile. Is that okay?.”
Ollie puckered his brows in thought. “Play later?”
Sean smiled at the little boy. “I’d love to play later, Ollie.”
“Okay, Ollie play Auntie Kitty now. Buh bye, Uncle!” he said, pulling the Headmistresses’ hand back towards the castle. Ginny noticed the happy look on Professor McGonagall’s face.
“Look at that! Not even Mum gets a good- bye anymore!”
“Guess the new favorite Uncle gets all the love,” Sean said, with a shrug, looking sidelong at Ron.
“Oi, not so fast there, mate,” Ron said, elbowing Harry. “Flavour of the week, maybe. The fabulous Uncle Ron will win out eventually!”
He handed his friend one of the school brooms. “And this will be good practice for the new job, won’t it, teaching you how to fly.”
Sean held the broom, a somewhat nervous look on his face.
“I’m going to sit this first bit out with Hermione - I ate too many biscuits to fly properly anyhow,” Ginny said, heading towards the bleachers.
“What did you say to Sean?” Hermione said, as soon as they were out of earshot.
“Nothing, really...”
“Well, he seems a lot better.”
“The reason he seemed upset has nothing to do with wanting to leave the Wizarding world, or not remembering. I mean, he’s obviously a little frustrated by that stuff, but he seems fine to me in that regard...” Ginny said.
“So he’s not going to up and leave?”
“I doubt it,” Ginny replied. “He just had a really shite day on Friday, and it’s still bothering him - he plans on telling you and Ron all about it, so I should leave that to him.”
Hermione nodded. “Nothing too awful then, I hope.”
“I guess not,” Ginny shrugged. “Say, did you know he’s been doing spells again with the Aurors?”
“Oh sure,” Hermione said casually, craning her neck to watch the boys, who were still on the ground. “I went to visit him at the Ministry over lunch a couple times. He remembers how to do all the spells and charms almost as soon as he’s told about them, Moody says. Like they’re waiting there, inside his head, and as soon as he waves his wand, the magic in his body remembers what it’s supposed to do.”
“Wow,” Ginny said. “Even complex magic?”
“I saw him doing things we struggled with during our sixth year without the slightest problem. I mean, underneath it all, this is Harry Potter, we’re talking about. We shouldn’t be surprised. He is the strongest wizard of our generation.”
Ginny had been keeping Sean and Harry very distinctly apart in her head, she needed to. But Hermione did have a point. “I suppose you’re right.”
“You know, his Patronus is still a stag. It’s the same, even though he’s different. Isn’t that unusual?”
Ginny nodded, unsure what to think. Her mind whirled with hope and possibilities. But getting her hopes up over something like that was ridiculous - it might even mean nothing, maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe Sean had an affinity for deer too.
“Look, there they go!” Hermione said, grinning excitedly.
Both the boys hovered about ten feet above the ground, Sean looking slightly awkward. Ron seemed to be giving him some sort of instruction, and a few seconds later, they both took off. Sean wobbled a bit at first and then suddenly straightened his path, zooming to catch up with Ron. His seat looked perfect. Ginny knew she hadn’t sat a broom that comfortably until her fifth year at Hogwarts, and she’d been flying since she was five years old.
“Wow - that’s incredible,” Ginny breathed, staring at Sean and Ron in total amazement.
“Sean looks as though he's doing well," Hermione noted.
“He’s bloody brilliant,” Ginny said, watching as Sean looped her brother almost lazily, high above the pitch. Ginny grabbed her broom. “Hang on a minute, Hermione - I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” Hermione said, but Ginny was already in the air heading towards the two men.
“Hey Sean, let’s trade brooms!” Ginny yelled, swooping up beside him.
Sean slowed down, his face red from the brisk wind and the sheer exhilaration of his first flight.
“What’s that?” he hollered.
“Trade me brooms! You’ll love the Firebolt - it’s a racing broom. You used to have one!”
“Did I?”
“You think he’s ready, Ron?”
Ron shrugged his shoulders as he flew past them. “His form looks great. I don’t see why not-”
“Okay then. Brace yourself, Sean. Tighten your legs and stabilize the broom you’re on. I’m jumping!”
“WHAT-”
Ginny carefully positioned the Firebolt above him and, pulling the broomstick out from under her in one lithe motion, dropped gently onto the back of Sean’s broom. The old Comet bucked a little beneath them as she landed, and Ginny grabbed at Sean’s waist. Her other hand held fast to the Firebolt, which hovered beside them.
“See! You’re totally in control here! We’re just fine!” Ginny said with a laugh.
“You’re crazy, you know that?” Sean turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised. Ginny could hear the excitement in his voice - she remembered the first time she’d flown, how exhilarating it had felt, and her heart filled with warmth.
“Now jump on that broom!”
“How the bloody hell am I supposed to get from this broom onto that one when we’re a zillion feet up in the air? It’s windy!”
“The new Firebolt has a hover mechanism. It’ll stay still, even if I let go. See?” Ginny took her hand off the broom, which floated steadily beside them, awaiting a passenger.
Sean shook his head in amazement - Ginny felt him laugh through the hand which still rested across his hard stomach. She shivered a little, realizing that one of her fingers had slipped into an opening between two buttons on his shirt. His bare skin felt warm, supple. She fought the urge to caress it, the hair on her arm standing on end as though she was touching something electric.
“What if I don’t want to ride your broom?” Sean yelled. “What if we did this instead?” The Comet shot up and forward suddenly, and Ginny shrieked, grabbing onto him tightly with her other hand.
They shot straight forward and up, as fast as the old broom would take them. Ginny leaned against his back, resisting the downward pull of the broom as they gained altitude.
“Flying is amazing,” Sean yelled. “I love it!”
“I knew you would,” Ginny yelled. With a victorious yelp, Sean looped around and dove, doubling back towards the Firebolt, which still waited patiently for a passenger.
“You really have to try my broom, Sean. It’s ten times faster than this old thing, and far smoother. It turns before you can even think about it.”
“Okay - I’ll try,” Sean nodded. Ginny felt the muscles in his stomach tense, and let go of him reluctantly, her arms feeling suddenly cold.
“Ready?” She leaned over and put a steadying hand on the Firebolt, just to reassure him. “One... two... three... Jump!”
Sean half-jumped, half-fell onto the broom beside him, which didn’t budge an inch. Ginny giggled as she watched him ungracefully manoeuvre himself back into proper flying posture.
“Okay, now just lean forward-”
But Sean was already gone, a blur of black hair and broomstick.
“He’s doing so well!” Ginny yelled over to Ron.
Ron just shook his head at her. “I can’t believe it. You don’t even let me fly on your precious Firebolt!”
“That broom’s brand new, Ron. I haven’t customized the settings yet, so there’s nothing to mess up.”
Ron smirked. “Oh sure... In the meantime, how are you liking that fine piece of history you’re riding?”
Ginny grimaced at the old school broom below her. “Hey, I rode one of these the first year I played, you know.”
“I think this’ll be a day that goes into the next volume of Hogwarts: A History. The day Ron Weasley finally beat his baby sister once around the pitch...”
“You’re on, Widdle Ronniekins,” Ginny yelled, already zooming off into the pale afternoon sun.
Chapter 14: Chapter 13 - An Affair to Remember
“So, you haven’t told me yet! How was the dreaded visit to Hogwarts?” Tonks asked curiously, putting her daughter down on the carpet where Ollie was already building a tower with his wooden blocks. Tonks and Gemma slept over at Ginny’s place the days surrounding the full moon.“Surprisingly good, considering...” Ginny said.
Ginny had confided some of her fears about her fledgling feelings for Sean to Tonks the night before she’d left for the castle. She could rely on Tonks to listen, without offering advice or judging her, when she had a problem - sometimes, a listening ear was all Ginny needed to start sorting things through in her head.
“You two snogged all day long, didn’t you!” Tonks said with a wacky grin.
“No!” Ginny laughed, throwing a pillow at her friend’s head. “Only for an hour or so...”
Tonks’ jaw dropped.
“I’m kidding, you goose!” Ginny giggled. “It was fine, actually. I didn’t make a fool of myself. I have no idea why I was so worried. It took a couple of hours to just... I don’t know, get used to the idea of this completely different person inhabiting Harry’s body.”
“I don’t really think of it that way,” Tonks said, hanging upside down on the couch and tickling her daughter and Ollie, who were playing with blocks.
“How do you see it, Tonks?”
“Well, this bloke is Harry, you know? I know he really doesn’t remember he is, and is fully convinced that he’s Sean, but if you think about it, Sean’s really just some sort of lie someone made up and put inside Harry’s head.”
“I guess that’s true.” Ginny didn’t want to admit that her opinion was mostly based on the fact that it was too hard for her to think of a Harry that didn’t remember who she was. “But he has built a personality around this lie - it’s not really a lie anymore.”
“You have a point, I guess,” Tonks replied thoughtfully. “But I’ve noticed from working with him at the MLES that Sean is similar to Harry in plenty of ways besides just the physical things. If Harry had never come to Hogwarts, if he had never been told he was a wizard, and if he hadn’t faced all those near impossible challenges, I think he’d probably be a lot like Sean.”
“You don’t think that what a person experiences changes them and makes them into the person they are?”
“Oh sure, in some ways,” Tonks agreed. “But at the core, in a person’s soul, there are certain things that don’t change.”
Ginny shrugged, silent. Maybe Tonks was right. Ginny felt suddenly overwhelmed.
“Sean was talking about some Muggle cinema multiplex he liked, and there’s a festival next week in London where they’re showing these influential movies all week long. I told him I’d go see a few with him,” Ginny blurted out, worriedly. “Would you... I know I sound like a big fat coward even asking you this, Tonks... but would you like to come along?”
“On your date?” Tonks said with a laugh.
“It’s not a date!”
Tonks raised an eyebrow quizzically. “I think I’ve heard that before!”
Ginny smirked. “This time it’s really not, Tonks. He invited Ron and Hermione too - they just weren’t sure they could make it as it’s Ron’s first week at Hogwarts and all...”
“Explain why you want me to come. Are you afraid to be alone with him?”
Ginny shrugged. She had been alone with him at Hogwarts that weekend and it had been fine, for the most part. “I just... oh, i sound like a git saying this, but I don’t want to accidentally lead him on or something. I keep... flirting with him!”
Tonks burst into laughter. “You’re talking like you can’t control yourself!”
“I can’t, Tonks! I mean, I’m sitting beside this man who smells and looks and talks exactly like the love of my life, Harry bloody Potter - it’s a bit difficult to not flirt, you know?”
“You’re flirting with him because you’re attracted to him, silly! You should be flirting with him, it’s good for you!”
“Okay, but-”
“No ‘buts’, Ginny Weasley! I don’t think I should have to come along like your mum to make sure everything stays family-rated at this movie theatre!”
Ginny looked at her friend in confusion, while Tonks laughed at her own pun.
“Sorry - Muggle joke. Family-rated... Oh, nevermind! I’ll come with you to a couple of movies, I suppose, if my schedule at work co-operates.”
Ginny squealed and hugged her friend gleefully.
“And this is only because it’s a full moon this week... plus, you’ll be buying me popcorn, right?”
***
The theatre was dark and mostly empty. It was their fourth movie that week - Tonks had accompanied them to three - and Ginny was starting to feel like a seasoned Muggle cinema-goer. The sound effects no longer made her squeal and flinch, as they had during the first movie she saw, where there had been a lot of gunfire and explosions. Sean and Tonks had both laughed at her cowering in her seat until tears ran down their faces.
Ginny sat between Tonks and Sean, the almost empty bin of popcorn on her lap.
“This movie’s so cheesy...” she whispered to Tonks.
“It’s a classic, though! Look at those costumes!”
“No complaining allowed, Gin!” Sean nudged her, grinning. “You’re the one who picked it!”
“Well, the poster looked quite nice... Are old movies always this bloody long?”
Tonks giggled. “Long? It’s barely started.”
“YOU KIDS BE QUIET DOWN THERE!” an old lady behind them hollered. Ginny clapped her hands over her mouth to prevent her laughter from escaping, and sunk low in her seat.
“No, I don't think I will kiss you, although you need kissing, badly. That's what's wrong with you. You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how,” the mustachedmoustached hero on the screen said in his strange drawling accent. Ginny rolled her eyes and nudged Tonks.
“This movie highlights the problem with blokes, yeah? As if snogging is going to fix everything!”
“Really, it causes all sorts of problems,” Tonks said mock-seriously.
“Failure of O.W.L.s due to abnormal amounts of time spent in broom closets-”
“Chapped lips due to inordinately long snogging sessions-”
“The need to wear unfashionable turtleneckedturtle-necked sweaters in the middle of the summer due to lovebites,” Ginny added, grinning.
“It’s a good- for- nothing activity, obviously...” Tonks said, shaking her head. “Waste of time entirely.”
“We should probably let her know,” Ginny whispered, pointing surreptitiously at the couple two rows ahead, who had been engaged in periods of intermittent but increasingly intense snogging throughout the movie.
Tonks bit her lip, trying once again not to laugh out loud.
Sean shook his head at the couple, who were almost falling out of their seats with the intensity of their passion. “Don’t they know you’re supposed to do that in the back row, not four bloody rows from the front!”
“You should go tell them,” Ginny said, seriously. “Right now would be an ideal time, in my opinion.” It was obvious from their silhouettes that the young man had just placed both his hands up his girlfriend’s shirt.
Sean burst out laughing, turning his laugh into a cough quickly as the woman behind them huffed.
“Oh, bloody hell!” Tonks sighed, pulling her wand from her coat. It was shaking slightly - Tonks was on call at the MLES - the vibrating wand was a page which meant she had to report to the office at once. She stood up to leave, shrugging at her friends apologetically.
“It’s no big deal,” Sean replied. “We’ll walk you out.”
They got up, and followed Tonks outside, much to the relief of the crotchety old lady, who preferred to enjoy her movie, and the couple in the fourth row snogging, without distraction.
“Too bad you have to work...” Ginny said as they entered the lobby. “But I guess I wasn’t especially enjoying that movie anyhow.”
“Just because I got called in doesn’t mean you two have to leave as well! Your mum expects to have Ollie and Gemma for another three hours, at least.”
“She has a point, Gin,” Sean added. “We don’t have to go back to Gone With the Wind - we have passes, we can go see anything. There’s another movie starting on one of the other screens at six, which is...” he glanced up at the clock on the front of the theatre. “... well, it began ten 10 minutes ago. We’ll hardly have missed anything.”
“Go,” Tonks put her hands on Ginny’s shoulders and turned her around, marching her back towards the entry to the theatres. “Have fun. I insist.”
“But-”
“I’m certain it’s just paperwork - maybe I’ll come back and join you. Or I can pick Ollie up at your mum’s for you - he’ll be sound asleep by the time you get home.”
“Okay, I suppose-”
“See you later, Ginny! Thanks for the fun, Sean!” Tonks said, jogging backwards, waving.
Ginny sighed heavily.
“Is it really the end of the world, to have to sit through a movie without having Tonks to whisper and giggle with?”
Ginny smirked. “More or less.”
They headed down the hall to the other theatre. “I’ll try my best to emulate Tonks by bursting into laughter at the leading man’s too-tight pants. Or his greasy hair. Or we can pick apart some choice bit of dialogue - you choose. I promise you’ll barely notice she’s left!”
Ginny laughed. “What movie are we going to see, anyway?”
“No idea, actually - I didn’t see the poster on the way in. If we hate it, I suppose we can leave...”
“Good point.”
Sean led the way into the theatre, stopping short right inside the doorway - Ginny almost ran into him. This theatre, in contrast to the last one they’d been in, was nearly full.
An usher whispered something to Sean and pointed. Sean nodded and took Ginny’s hand, guiding her to the seats the man had indicated. Ginny tried to ignore the flitter of her pulse - this hand-holding thing was purely a practical gesture, she told herself. The theatre was dark; he was just guiding her.
They went past four empty seats and sat down near the middle of the row - the usher had seated no one else in that particular row save for another couple at the far end.
Sean had, of course, released her hand as they sat down - was it just her imagination, or did it feel like he was reluctant to let go? Ginny chastised herself for her thoughts - she really had to stop overanalyzing every detail like this - and focused her attention on the screen. There was a woman on a cruise ship, talking with a man. The two characters had just met, it seemed. Ginny leaned back, and the back of her chair brushed a the back wall - how had she not noticed they were in the bloody back row, the snogging row, she wondered, amusement mixing with horror.
She shook the thought out of her head, trying once again to concentrate on the movie, but from the corner of her eye, she could tell that Sean had noticed the look that had crossed her face at her realization. He raised an eyebrow and glanced over at her. Ginny tried to pretend she wasn’t aware of his gaze, but she felt the corners of her mouth twitching upwards in a wry smile.
Sean leaned towards her, his breath warm on her cheek. “What are you smiling at?”
“Nothing! Am I even smiling?” Ginny replied innocently.
“Like a Cheshire cat!”
“I just have a well developed sense of irony, I guess,” she said, mysteriously.
Sean just looked at her for a moment, one of his eyebrows cocked curiously. He was still disarmingly close to her.
“Are you okay with these seats? I think I see some empty ones a few rows up...”
Ginny saw a certain familiar glint appear in his eye, and her breath caught in her throat. How by the hem of Merlin’s robes had she ended up alone in the back row of a darkened theatre with a man she was trying desperately to keep her hands off of? This was most decidedly not a good idea. She kept her eyes trained on the screen, her smile as neutral as possible.
“The seats are just fine, thanks,” Ginny replied, trying to wipe the smile off her face, but failing.
That stupid irony comment - what had possessed her? She bit the inside of her lip, wishing she could rewind the last two minutes.
‘Concentrate on the movie, Ginny,’ she told herself, staring at the screen. Sean settled back in his chair, his hand on the armrest. Ginny could just see it from the corner of her eye. He had beautiful hands, Ginny recalled wistfully; strong slender fingers, the most perfect calluses on his palms from his broomstick. She had a momentary urge to trace her finger across his palm, along the forks on his lifeline - there were four major ones, she recalled - she remembered Harry’s hands the way people remember the streets of their hometown, almost instinctively. The first fork in his lifeline was when Voldemort’s killing curse had rebounded; the next was obviously the war. What were the other two? The third one was a longer line that any of the others, it ran deeper, she remembered: could that mean his life as Sean? Was its length and depth an indicator that Harry’s memories would never come back?
Ginny’s contemplation ceased abruptly as Sean’s hand moved out of her peripheral vision. He leaned towards her again, this time putting his arm ever so casually around the back of her chair. She could feel the sleeve of his shirt brush against her shoulder.
“At least there’s no one behind us to scold us for whispering,” he said quietly, his breath tickling her hair against her ear.
“Uh, I suppose that’s one good thing about the back row,” Ginny replied lamely. She was happy for the darkness, feeling her cheeks going bright red.
Sean smiled, turning to look at the screen. His arm rested along the back of her chair, his hand dangling beside her shoulder; Ginny could feel it there, the slight heat of his skin not quite touching her shoulders; it was maddening, infuriating. Five minutes passed blindly - Ginny stared at the screen, unable to focus, unable to think. She was frozen stiff; she couldn’t budge, not even an inch. The couple onscreen were kissing, Ginny noticed distractedly - how had they chosen a romance movie? Why hadn’t she paid more bloody attention to the posters they passed as they were walking Tonks out?
Ginny moved, just a little, trying her hardest to relax. This was nothing to panic about. Putting your arm around someone, that was no big deal - it meant next to nothing, really. Maybe Sean just needed to stretch his arms: the seats were small, it was totally understandable. She could feel her ponytail tickle against his elbow, and she heard the intake of his breath as she shifted again, leaning back against his arm a little. It was far more comfortable, she reasoned. Totally logical. No big deal.
Sean’s hand settled on her shoulder. She relaxed slowly, wishing they hadn’t finished their popcorn at the other movie - she wanted something to do with her hands. She really did need another distraction besides the movie, which seemed to consist solely of drama and increasing sexual tension between the dark-haired hero and the red-haired heroine. That might be okay under most circumstances, but not these ones.
Ginny waited a full minute, counting the seconds inside her head, before she risked glancing up at Sean. She tried to look calm and aloof, although she was certain her face was pink.
She was shocked to see him looking straight back at her, his eyes unreadable in the darkness. She shivered.
“Uh, it’s sort of cold in here.” She knew her excuse sounded lame.
“I’m finding it sort of hot, myself,” he replied, his voice husky. It was a voice Ginny hadn’t heard in four years; a voice Harry used to use when they were alone together. A strange thrill ran through Ginny’s heart - she felt as though breaking eye contact with him was an impossibility.
Emboldened by the look in her eyes, Sean slowly lifted the armrest that divided them, pushing it up and out of the way. He pulled Ginny towards him. She wanted to resist but she couldn’t.
“Is that warmer?”
“Yes,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut tightly, as though that would make what was happening less real. He was warm; warm and solid, and he smelled amazing - it was driving her crazy; how anyone could possibly smell that wonderful? Ginny wondered how long the movie was - she wasn’t sure if she wanted it to be long or short. Long, maybe - after all, there was technically nothing wrong with what she was doing. Nothing untoward at all. She could hear the calm regularity of his heartbeat against her cheek - hers was still pounding double time, she knew it. She wondered if he could hear it. But what was she doing? She had known this was a bad idea - she should have left when Tonks had left. She stared blindly at the screen, feeling both elated and horribly guilty at once.
He was touching her hair. She could feel him idly twisting tendrils around his finger. She could feel him looking down at her, but she couldn’t look up. She opened her eyes cautiously, as though she was worried she was dreaming.
Pull yourself away, Ginny!.
Her brain was screaming,but she couldn’t move. She was frozen again, slowly thawing against his chest.
It wasn’t unexpected, not exactly, but Ginny could hear the blood rushing in her ears as when Sean took her hand a moment later. She was totally unable to focus on the movie, but she had noticed somehow that the man and the woman had fallen in love on their vacation, and now they were saying goodbye, returning to their fiancées. It was too obvious that they should be together, Ginny thought; it was all wrong. They made plans to meet again in six months, to meet on top of some building, and if she showed up, he would ask her to marry him. Ginny just knew something would go wrong, something always went wrong in stories like this.
“Are you enjoying the movie?” Sean whispered against her hair.
Ginny didn’t know how to answer; she wasn’t certain she could even speak at this point.
“Sean, I... I really shouldn’t be doing this-” she heard herself say as though from a great distance.
“Doing what?” Sean was feigning innocence - even in the dim light, Ginny could see his green eyes twinkle with amusement. But there was something far more serious in their depths.
“I... I don’t know,” Her mind finally over-ruled her body and she pulled away from him, sitting up.
“What’s wrong, Ginny?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m... I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
Ginny shook her head. She wasn’t fine. She was far from fine. She realized she was still holding his hand — squeezing it, in fact.
He looked down at her hand, a look that was both sad and at the same time amused flickering across his face. And then he spoke.
“I’m attracted to you, Ginny, I can’t believe how much. And I think you feel the same way about me...”
Ginny nodded. There was no point trying to pretend it wasn’t there anymore. He squeezed her hand back, his face handsome and serious in the dim light. She leaned back against his arm again, her head settling in the crook of his shoulder and his neck. She couldn’t stop herself even if she wanted to.
But she didn’t want to.
“You want to know what I’m thinking right now?” he whispered.
“What’s that?” A dull static had begun in her ears as his arm twined around her. She was going to kiss him. No matter what he said next, she knew she would kiss him. It had become inevitable.
“I’m thinking you look as though you should be kissed often, and by someone who knows how.”
Ginny’s mouth teased against his neck as she replied. “You could be right. Do you know anyone who knows how?”
And he took her face in his hands, his lips meeting hers softly, unhurriedly, as though there was nothing else to do but kiss her, slowly, softly, lazily, for the rest of eternity. Ginny felt a huge wave of relief rush over her body - she had wanted this since the second she saw him again in that Muggle dress shop, this was all she had wanted, to be kissed just like this. She had hungered; she felt as though she had been starving herself for weeks and weeks, and now this kiss, it like a feast. Slow and delicious and wonderful.
He kissed differently than Harry - with Harry it was as though all the stars were crashing down in a heartbeat, obliterating everything. With Harry, every kiss felt like the very last kiss two people could ever have. And this was Harry’s mouth, less frantic, but no less passionate. Sean’s kisses made the world fade more slowly. He tugged gently at her lower lip before he broke away to kiss unhurriedly along her neck, down her collarbone. Ginny’s hands were twined in his hair, as he made his way back up to her mouth.
“You taste incredible,” he breathed raggedly into her ear. Ginny pulled him towards her. He wrapped both his arms tightly around her and pressed her back into her chair, his mouth and tongue still breathy and light against hers, contrasting with the hard pressure of his body.
“You are the most bloody fabulous kisser,” Ginny breathed unsteadily.
“Is it like you remember?” Sean asked.
Ginny shook her head, punctuating her words with kisses along his jaw line. “No, no... different. But let’s not talk-”
“Sounds good to me.”
Chapter 15: Chapter 14: Hopeless
Author's Notes: Sorry for the longer-than-intended break between chapters... Real life kinda snuck up on me and dropped a huge pile of things to deal with into my lap. I promise I'll be better next time!
Ginny opened the door to her house quietly, smoothing down her disheveled hair. All was quiet. She noticed Ollie and Gemma’s little trainers lined up beside Tonks’ tall purple leather boots in the front hallway, and knew the children were tucked away in bed.
She glanced at herself in the hall mirror. She looked well and thoroughly snogged, she realized, her lips swollen and red, her cheeks flushed. Tonks worked early the next day, and it was almost ten in the evening; hopefully she was asleep. She tiptoed gingerly into the kitchen for a glass of water.
“Hi Ginny!” Tonks said brightly. Ginny jumped, startled. Her friend was sitting at the kitchen table, rolls of parchment piled haphazardly in front of her, twirling a quill in her fingers.
“Oh, hi. What are you doing still up?” Ginny replied, waving her wand at the jug of water and glass on the countertop.
“Working. I brought some paperwork home - I filled out these stupid prisoner transfer forms all backwards, that’s why they called me in,” Tonks said, blowing her bright pink fringebangs out of her face, as she checked something off with her quill. “So what movie did you two end up seeing?”
“An Affair to Remember,” Ginny replied, sitting down on the countertop. She had checked the poster on their way out.
“How'd you enjoy it?”
“It was so-so...” Ginny shrugged.
“When she gets hit by the car, it’s so upsetting,” Tonks replied distractedly, leafing through the paperwork. “Poor bloke is left waiting! And they end up with people they don’t love. I hate sad endings!”
“Yeah, it was a bit depressing,” Ginny said, stretching her arms and yawning. She wanted to change the subject; she really hadn't a clue how the movie ended. “How’s Ollie, did he fall asleep easily?”
“At 7:30 pm, like clockwork - I picked up them up a bit early from your mum’s,” Tonks said, writing something on her forms. “You’re tired?”
“Very tired, actually,” Ginny said, hopping off the cupboard.
“You should go to bed - you have early practice tomorrow, don't you? And snogging can be really exhausting.”
“You’re right, I-” Ginny froze. Had she misheard? She spun around and stared at her friend, who was studying her paperwork a little too heavily. Ginny’s eyes narrowed as the corners of Tonks’ mouth twitched upwards.
“Oh bloody hell, how did you know?”
Tonks put the quill down and raised an eyebrow. “First off, I got an Exceeds Expectations in Questioning in Auror Training - if you had been paying attention at that movie, you would have known it ends quite happily. Secondly, you’re a right mess — your shirt and hair are all mussed up. Thirdly, there’s a very content look on your face, a pretty unmistakable look...”
“You must think I’m a total idiot,” Ginny groaned, flopping into the chair beside her friend.
“Not in the least,” Tonks said. “How was it?”
“Bloody brilliant, of course,” Ginny replied miserably.
“Anything like snogging Harry?”
“Not really, to be honest.”
“So what happens now?”
“I wish I knew.” Ginny shook her head, feeling completely stupid. She probably should have asked him that after the movie, while they were walking to the safe Apparition point, but instead she pulled him down a dark alley to snog a bit more. Then, she side-along Apparated him back to Grimmauld Place, and when they arrived in the foyer of the house, there was a whole lot more kissing and touching - it had started to get more and more heated, and Ginny knew if she hadn’t had her son to come home to, she’d still be there. She’d might even have spent the night.
“What am I going to do, Tonks?” She buried her head in her hands.
Tonks reached out and ruffled her hair. “You’re talking like you’ve made some horrendous mistake! Are you not attracted to him?”
“Yes, but-”
“Are you not interested in him romantically - and don’t give me the excuses of your circumstances as a widow or single mother, or any of that, because I know as well as you that’s a bunch of nonsense...”
“Yeah, I suppose I am,” Ginny admitted.
“He does really well with Ollie, Gin,” Tonks said, seriously. “It would be good for your son to have him around more. Not to mention how good it would be for you.”
“I guess so.”
“But he’s not Harry,” Tonks said. “Not really...”
“I know,” Ginny said. Tonight had nothing to do with Harry, she realized, confusion filling her heart.
“Why don’t you ask him to the Annual Cannons Fundraiser on the weekend? I can take Ollie for the night!”
“Oh, those fundraisers are nonsense - I always leave early.”
Tonks raised an eyebrow. “Why’d you leave early last year, again?”
“It’s a bloody nightclub. All dancing and drinking. I have a child - In fact, I was breastfeeding at the time, I couldn’t drink and muck about like that.”
“And your excuse this year is...”
“I don’t have a dress?” Ginny tried despondently.
“We can go shopping Friday afternoon! Or you can borrow something from me.”
Ginny shrugged. “I suppose I don’t have another excuse.”
“Just invite him,” Tonks urged. “It’s perfect, really! Ron’s a season ticket holder - don’t all the season ticket holders get invited?”
“They do.”
“So if you’re feeling awful about the situation, or the date goes sour, you’ll have Hermione and Ron to talk to, at least. It won’t be so bad.”
“I guess you’re right,” Ginny replied. The truth was, she did want to see him again, despite the fear and confusion inside her heart. And the fundraiser really was the perfect place.
“You'll have a great time. You’ll see,” Tonks grinned confidently as though she had solved some sort of problem. Ginny smiled back, slightly more unsure than her friend.
“I don’t know - I mean, there’s a lot of people there who might recognize Harry.”
“That won’t matter anymore - Moody has scheduled some sort of big meeting with the Prophet tomorrow afternoon to announce Harry’s return to England’s Ministry,” Tonks said. “Expect big headlines Thursday morning!”
“What?” Ginny’s jaw dropped. “What in the world is he going to tell the Prophet?”
“Sean and Moody have it all figured out. They’ll disguise the fact that he’s lost his memory for now, and just spin it as though he’s been on some big vacation,” Tonks shrugged. “Maybe Moody will say Harry's been off helping the Aurors undercover or something. I have no idea.”
“Wow...”
“At least this way there’s less chance of Rita Skeeter catching him off-guard somewhere - he’ll have a prepared statement at hand, and can easily say No comment to all the questions he doesn’t want to answer.”
“The Prophet’s going to have a field day.”
“Yep,” Tonks nodded. “It’ll probably be good for him to appear in public at the fundraiser with you - it’ll show the world he hasn’t got anything to hide.”
“I guess so - I should owl and ask him, then.” Ginny replied.
“You should owl him tonight! You two should go for lunch tomorrow before the media frenzy... besides, he’s going to be really busy at the Ministry for the next few days. Some mediwizard from Tokyo wants to examine him - Hermione arranged the whole thing.”
“Lunch?”
“Yes, lunch. You should gauge the situation, see if the fundraiser will be a replay of what happened tonight.”
“Why would I need to do that?”
Tonks smirked. “To see if you need to wear your fancy knickers on Saturday or not.”
“Nymphadora Tonks!” Ginny giggled, swatting her friend with a tea towel. “Pull your mind from the gutter!”
“I kind of like it down here, actually.”
“You would...”
“But seriously, Gin. If you don’t talk about whether or not all this snogging means anything, you’re going to feel more awkward at the fundraiser.”
“You’re right, Tonks. You’re always right about everything,” Ginny sighed, getting up and hugging her friend. “I’m going to go check on Ollie. Good night, Tonks.”
“ ‘Night, Ginny,” Tonks replied with a wink. “And if you want to head back to Sean’s place right now to, uh, give him a special invitation to the fundraiser, I can certainly handle Ollie until tomorrow morning.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “I’m fine with sending an owl, thanks.”
“Well, remember. If you ever need a babysitter so you can go off and shag the delectable new boy living in Harry Potter’s body, I’m always available.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ginny replied sarcastically, sticking out her tongue at her friend as she headed up the stairs.
Ollie was sleeping peacefully on his back, his mouth open, breathing deeply. Ginny resisted the urge to kiss his forehead, not wanting to wake him. She headed into the study to write her owls:
Dear Sean:
I know this is short notice, but I was hoping you’d be available to meet me for lunch tomorrow.
>
Ginny paused, realizing she had no idea what she was going to say to him during tomorrow’s meeting. But it didn’t matter, really. She would simply tell him the truth about how she felt about him. She just had to pull her muddled head together enough to figure out exactly what that truth was.
How about the Leaky Cauldron at 1 pm? Owl back, and let me know if you can make it
Yours,
Ginny
P.S. - Thanks for tonight.
Was the P.S too much? Ginny wondered. Should she rewrite it? Stop overanalyzing she told herself, rolling the letter and sealing it with a drop of wax. She left it on the windowsill for Oliver’s tough old Eagle Owl, Gerold, who was likely out hunting.
She sat at the desk for a minute more, the quill in her hand. Perhaps it was stupid and desperate, but what was the harm? She pulled out a new sheet of parchment.
Dear Hermione:
Hey sis! Just writing because Tonks mentioned something about Sean undergoing treatment with a specialist from Tokyo this week, someone that you’d recommended. I was curious - what does the treatment entail, and in all honesty, what are his chances at this point at regaining any more of his memories? You’d said at once point that every day, the chances to regain any ground get a little slimmer, and I hope you didn’t go through any undue expense to bring this specialist in.
We should meet up for dinner tomorrow - any plans?
Love, Ginny
Ginny read the letter over. It seemed hopeless - but she rolled it up and left it beside the second letter on the sill.
Ginny lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, formulating what she wanted to say tomorrow during lunch. When sleep finally came, she dreamed of Sean’s mouth closing over hers in a quiet bedroom, the sound of birds bright outside the open window. He kissed her, in that new, wonderful, languid way, and got up from the bed, crossing the room to the window. Ginny stared at him, silhouetted against the blue sky. He looked back at her for a moment before he jumped out. Ginny ran down the stairs to try and rescue him, she ran so fast the rooms became a white blur, and when she got to her front door, it opened into a flower- filled meadow. The field of flowers was so beautiful, hues she’d never imagined, and Ginny was so shocked by the sudden beauty that she almost forgot what she was there for. Sean, she remembered, running desperately around the house. But there was no sign of him outside the window or anywhere. She was alone. Ginny turned around and the house itself had disappeared.
But just then, off in the distance, she saw him, and a hopeful feeling bloomed in her heart. He was running towards her across the meadow, holding Ollie’s hand. They were laughing. He picked her son up, and they stopped, waving at her, inviting her to join them. Ginny couldn’t move her legs;, it was as though she’d been rooted to that spot. She waved desperately, waiting for them to keep running towards her, to finally reach her, but they were still. Everything faded to white.
***
Ginny was early. She watched Sean saunter into the busy restaurant. He wouldn’t notice her right away; she was tucked away at the corner table in the very back of the pub. She watched the strong line of his jaw, the way the muscles of his shoulders moved beneath his shirt. She watched the two witches at the corner table turn to admire him as he walked past, whispering appreciatively behind their hands. She imagined them thinking he looked familiar, but they’d never be able to place him. After all, the Harry Potter they’d last seen was just a young boy, and this was most certainly a man.
He noticed her and approached, smiling anxiously.
“Thanks for meeting me,” Ginny said, as he sank into the chair across from her.
“There’s nothing else I’d rather be doing,” He smiled warmly at her, glancing down at the menu. “Did you order yet?”
“No...” Ginny stared blankly at the sheet of parchment detailing the day’s lunch specials. Sean was quiet too. Ginny realized that she suddenly had no idea what to say. Thankfully, Sean cleared his throat and spoke.
“Gin, I hope you're not here to tell me that you regret what happened yesterday - sorry if I was too, uh, forward.”
“Did I seem like I didn’t want to be there?” Ginny replied, smirking slightly.
“Not particularly,” Sean admitted.
This was going to be easy, Ginny thought. She’d expected everything to be awkward, horribly awkward, and it wasn’t. What she didn’t expect was that she would want to snog the living daylights out of him again as soon as she saw him. She bit her lip, pushing those thoughts aside as best she could.
The waitress came by and they ordered their lunches and two butterbeers, which appeared magically on their table a few seconds later. It was quiet for a moment as Ginny sipped her drink and tried to sort out her thoughts. Last night, she had known exactly what she wanted to say to him - she had thought it all out, staring sleeplessly at the ceiling of her bedroom.
But this morning, she'd received Hermione's response. The letter was in her pocket now:
Dear Ginny,
I know that you are very hopeful, but I want to be unflinchingly honest with you in this regard.
The specialist from Tokyo, Dr. Oh, is not exactly unveiling some sort of revolutionary new therapy to help us find Harry. His practice is similar to the first mediwizard to spend any sort of significant time with Sean - Dr. Jorgenson of Sweden, specifically his visualization therapy. I read that Dr. Oh and Jorgenson were research partners at one point.
Visualization therapy is fascinating. I could go into detail, but I suppose you’re not interested in the specifics. The first time Harry underwent this therapy with Dr. Jorgenson, it was unsuccessful. I’m sorry to say it, but this may be more of the same.
I initially contacted Dr. Oh because Sean had seen an article he had written, and he decided he’d like to try a course of treatment with him. The doctor was kind enough to offer to come at his own expense - he’s really interested in Harry’s case. Maybe I’m being cynical, and there is some hope after all! When it comes to Harry, the impossible more often than not becomes possible. It only takes one rock to start a landslide, remember? Maybe Dr. Oh will find that rock inside Harry, and all those memories will fall back into their proper places.
You should come by our place for dinner tonight - I have Oh’s article if you’d like to read it. Owl me later and let me know.
Love,
Hermione
The last hope Ginny had of Sean regaining Harry’s memories had dwindled to nothing. She stared across the table at him, trying to erase his resemblance to Harry in her mind. She couldn’t do it.
Sean cleared his throat nervously, bringing Ginny’s attention back to the restaurant.
“You seem thoughtful,” Sean said. “Are you worried about something?”
“I guess I am, a little,” Ginny admitted.
“Can you tell me?”
Ginny nodded nervously. She had no idea how to start. “What happened last night...I just don’t know exactly how I let that happen. And it's not that I regret it, because I don’t. I just... I hadn’t walked into that theatre hoping to snog the living daylights out of you.”
“I hadn’t planned on kissing you either... well, not really,” he replied. “But it was rather convenient when we were seated in the back row...”
Ginny grinned. “Thank you for assuring I got a complete education about Muggle cinema-going.”
Sean laughed. “Anytime.”
Ginny laughed somewhat nervously. “I have to ask you this question... it might scare you off - I hope it doesn’t, but it might-”
“It's okay. Just ask, Ginny.”
“Well... what happens now? What did last night mean?”
Sean took a deep breath and looked at her, his face a mask of anxiety. “Well, I want very much to be with you, Ginny.”
“Sean, I-”
“No, wait - please, Gin. I’m sorry, but I have to say this now, or I’ll never be able to say it.”
Ginny nodded, her heart in her throat.
“Yesterday, what happened in that theatre, I didn’t plan it or anything, but I really wanted it to happen. I’ve wanted it to happen ever since the second I saw you in the hallway at your parents’ house the day I came back. I think something really fantastic could happen between us if we let it, I mean, it could happen again. We were happy before I disappeared and lost my memory, I know we were. Everything is different now, I know, but I think we could have that again if we tried...” He looked at her somewhat apprehensively, as though he wanted to continue, but was unsure of her reaction. “That... that’s all, I guess.”
Ginny gripped her glass, trying not to cry.
“Sean, thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything,” he said, shrugging. “I just told you how I feel.”
Ginny nodded. “I had everything I wanted to say to you laid out all neatly in my head last night - everything had an answer, and everything made sense. But now that we’re sitting here, I don’t think it’s going to as easy as I thought it would be.”
Sean nodded, waiting for her to continue.
“I was totally in love with Harry,” she began, still not sure where she was headed with this painful topic of conversation. “I thought for years and years, ever since I was a little girl, that I was going to marry him. I had all these silly thoughts inside my head that he was my future. And then, we ended up together and it took so long for me to even let myself believe it could be true. And we were happy. Despite the difficult things we went through, we were very happy. I look at you, Sean, and I see that same face. You smile the same way he smiles, and when you touch me, it’s those same hands touching me, and it’s wonderful. But you aren’t Harry. I mean, you are, technically, but I just can’t bring myself to think of you as Harry.”
“I see...” Sean replied quietly.
“I’ve never told anyone this before, and I have this feeling that when I do, you’re going to think I’m bloody pathetic-”
“I wouldn’t,” he interrupted.
Ginny nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat and staring at the table, somewhat ashamed, before continuing quietly.
“I never, ever got over Harry, not even for a second. Not even when I was married to Oliver - and I loved Oliver, I really did, he was good and kind and fun. But when I was with Ollie, Harry was always there too. I dreamed about him almost every night. He had become such a part of my heart. I think back and I know now that, as stupid as it sounds now, Harry Potter really was ‘the one’ - he was exactly the right person for me, forever and ever.”
“And I’ve come to terms with the idea that I won’t find that again. I think maybe you’re only given one chance at that sort of thing. I’ve known Harry was the one since the day I met him - I knew it even when I married Oliver, but I married him anyways because Harry was gone, and I think back on that decision and I know it wasn’t fair... I don’t regret it, but I know it wasn’t fair to Ollie. My husband loved me with all he had, and I could never give him my whole heart in return, not even for a moment.”
The last part came out in a rush, and Ginny realized that she was crying.
“And Sean, the confusing thing is that you’re everything I could ever want - I’ve only known you a short time, but I know that already. If I’d never met Harry; if I lived in another world at another time and I found you, Sean, I think that would be it for me. But, as stupid as it sounds, I still love Harry Potter.”
Sean was silent for a long time, studying her face. He reached over and caressed her cheek, tenderly wiping her tears away with his thumb.
“Don’t cry, Gin. It’ll be okay.”
“It won’t be,” Ginny replied, as he reached out and took her hands in his. “It’s really not fair.”
“I know,” he replied quietly. There was a resigned sadness in his voice, as though he was used to disappointment and hurt. It made Ginny feel as though a part of her was dying. She fought back the tears, staring down at their hands clasped on the table.
“So what you’re essentially saying is that my only competition is... myself?” Sean began, smiling a little.
Ginny laughed through her tears and nodded. It was absurd, but true.
Sean looked at her seriously. “I don’t want this to be difficult for you. Maybe we shouldn’t see each other - I can stop coming by your parents’ house for Sunday dinner and-”
Ginny’s heart almost stopped for a moment. “NO! That’s a ridiculous idea! I want to see you!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, unless you don’t want to see me anymore.”
“Are you crazy? I love being around you!”
“And I love being around you!” she retorted.
They stared at each other in utter silence. The waitress brought their plates, but neither of them looked at their food.
“The problem is that when I’m around you, all I can think of is how much I want to be alone with you, how badly I want kiss you,” he said somewhat tersely. “And now that you’ve been so honest, I feel like a horrible person.”
“You’re not horrible.”
“I am horrible, Gin. There’s a part of me that doesn’t care that you’re still in love with Harry - I still want to be with you.”
“There’s a part of me that feels the same way,” Ginny admitted hopelessly, allowing herself to acknowledge the butterflies that had jumped to life in her chest the second he’d touched her hand.
“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”
“I wish I was,” she replied. “Everything inside my heart is a contradiction.”
“But everything will make sense, won’t it? When I remember.”
“You sound so sure that it’s going to happen-”
“I’ll have to make sure it happens now, won’t I?” he replied with conviction.
Ginny looked down at the table in silence.
“I, Sean Collins, am in love with you, Ginny Weasley,” he said, his voice quaking a little. “I know that doesn’t change anything, but it’s out there now.”
Ginny’s entire body felt numb. She nodded again. There was absolutely nothing she could say in response. She didn’t know if she was in love with him - could she really love two people at once? Sean and Harry? Was that even possible? She was attracted to Sean as though there was a magnet inside her pulling her irresistibly forward - but was it only the Harry parts she was drawn to?
She thought for a moment about the slow, wonderful way Sean kissed, how funny he was, how much Ollie liked him - no, it certainly wasn’t just the Harry parts.
“I’d like you to come out with me on Saturday - to a fundraiser for my Quidditch team. I would like it if you were my date,” she said almost mechanically.
He sat in silence for a moment, looking at her. “You’re sure about this, Gin?”
“I’m positive.”
“I’d love to come.”
“I’m going to try, Sean,” she blurted. “I’m going to try really hard to get over Harry, or whatever it is I have to do - because I actually want to make this work, somehow. I don’t know how - it might be impossible, but we can try.”
“Nothing is impossible.”
Ginny nodded, pulling some money from her pocket and placing it on the table. “Can... can we leave? I’m not hungry...”
“Okay,” He got up and offered her his hand. She took it, clasping it firmly in hers.
“I’m going to walk you back to the Ministry,” she told him, her voice low and somewhat sad. “And when we get there, I’m going to have to kiss you goodbye.”
“And I’m going to have to kiss you back. For a long time.”
Chapter 16: Chapter 15 - Saturday
Author's Notes: EXTREME cliffhanger warning! *giggles*
Ginny studied her reflection in the long mirror in Tonks’ hallway. She knew she looked good - she knew that in all likelihood she hadn’t looked this good in her whole life.
The dress was black silk, a simple slip dress. Ginny had bought it yesterday in London with Tonks, who seemed a little worried about her best friends’ lack of shopping enthusiasm, especially given that they had just found the most perfect dress in existence. Later that night, after the children - who were exhausted from their London outing - had fallen asleep, Ginny suddenly collapsed in tears on Tonks’ shoulder. She told her friend the whole conversation she’d had over her lunch with Sean. And then she’d cried hopelessly for two hours.
Ginny sighed, running her hands over the soft fabric. She almost wished she looked horrible and fat, or that Ollie would wake up and put his sticky little fingerprints on the hem of the dress. Maybe she’d get caught in a gale on the way to the club somehow, and her hair would end up a disaster. She hadn’t worn it down in years, but tonight it fell in soft, gentle waves down the middle of her back. Tonks had insisted Ginny borrow her string of pearls and a pair of strappy black heels heels, and Hermione had given her a black lambswool shawl for her birthday that finished the outfit perfectly.
Ollie was already asleep with Gemma in the nursery - Tonks and Remus were babysitting tonight. Ginny was already late to meet everyone at the club, but she didn’t care - she needed to talk with Tonks, who was working late. She knew her friend would help her feel less nervous about the whole thing. Ginny headed into the family room and settled on the couch, flipping through yesterday's Prophet once more again.
A giant picture of Sean's face eclipsed the entire front page. Harry Potter had been front page news for the past two days, despite the details they'd hidden from the media about his absence. Both issues of the Prophet since the press conference had been filled with a hundred different guesses as to what the long-lost hero had been doing during his absence. Stories reported that he had been a spy for the Ministry, or that he’d been sent to Bermuda to research dragons. They contradicted themselves, sometimes even during the same article, and not one of them came near the truth.
Sean had been vague but friendly during the press conference, telling reporters that he’d been travelling a bit, here and there. Nothing specific. Ginny and Tonks had laughed for hours over the following quote in the Prophet:
Harry Potter says “Since I left four years ago, I’ve seen and done so many life-changing things. My experiences have transformed me into a new person.”
He’d told the reporters the direct truth, and they’d of course assumed it was a figure of speech. The irony was hilarious.
Half the Wizarding world was in uproar because Harry been unavailable for comment since that press conference. He had, in fact, been spending night and day at the MLES with Dr. Oh. Ginny hadn't seen him either, but she'd talked with Hermione the night before. Hermione let Ginny know that no progress had yet been made to uncovering Harry’s memories. Ginny had been expecting that news, but she was still disappointed.
Would she ever stop wishing Harry was back, she wondered, idly running a finger down the cheek of the picture on the front of the newspaper. The picture smiled up at her, the slightest indication of a dimple appearing on his left cheek. Ginny sighed wistfully.
“You look bloody amazing, you know.” Tonks peered around the edge of the door from the kitchen, her face tired and drawn.
“You’re back! I was almost worried I wouldn’t get to see you before I Ieft.”
Tonks flopped onto the couch with a groan, her head in her hands. “Work was a nightmare, obviously! Horrible horrible horrible!"
"Why? What happened?"
Tonks looked up at her, genuinely surprised. “No one owled you?"
Ginny shook her head, a bolt of fear shooting up her spine. Renewed Death Eater attacks? An escape from Azkaban?
"Peter bloody Pettigrew, that sleazy, no-good rat," Tonks spat. "He turned himself in and admitted everything this afternoon. I just delivered him to Azkaban myself.”
“But I thought he was dead...” Ginny mumbled, shocked. “Wait a second - what exactly did he admit to?”
“He’s the one who erased Harry’s memory, Ginny,” Tonks said.
“What? I'd thought Snape!”
“It wasn’t Snape - I mean, he was a suspect, of course... but I’m altogether certain Snape would have just killed Harry, not bothered mucking about with memory charms. Not his style, is it?" Tonks remarked dryly.
“You’re right,” Ginny realized. She hated Snape so much that she’d blamed him immediately.
“Apparently, Pettigrew owed Harry a life debt. He was dispatched to kill Harry that day four years ago, but because Harry had spared his life, he couldn’t rightly do it. So he resorted to those stupid, sloppy, awful memory charms, packed Harry’s trunk, sent Hedwig off... he said he spent enough time as Ron’s pet, watching Harry, so that he knew his departure would be almost believable.”
Ginny couldn’t reply. Almost believable... how in Merlin's name could she have believed that load of rubbish in the first place? She nodded, willing herself not to cry.
Tonks raked her fingers through her hair, which was brown and lackluster. “We should have investigated more thoroughly when he first disappeared. It seems so obvious now!” Tonks sighed.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Tonks! How could you have?” Ginny scolded. “There was no time for the Aurors to work on anything besides trials for the Death Eaters. No one blames you for anything!”
The war had decimated the ranks of the Aurors: forty-five of the MLES’s sixty active Aurors had been killed or severely injured in the days leading up to the final battle. The fifteen remaining Aurors, many of them traumatized by the death of family and friends, were left to do the work of sixty people. Harry’s case seemed open and shut when compared with wrenching the truth out of the seventy-five Death Eaters they’d managed to capture. As Minister of Magic, Ginny’s father was still involved in hearing the war trials today, over four years later.
“We were sloppy, Ginny. There’s no excuse for negligence-”
“There’s no point beating yourself up over it, Tonks. What’s done is done.”
Tonks nodded, her face still drawn and worried.
“Why would Pettigrew turn himself in now?” Ginny wondered aloud.
Tonks laughed bitterly. “Well, now that Harry’s back in the papers, the few remaining Death Eaters in hiding out there know that Peter didn’t do what he was told four years ago,” Tonks continued. “He turned himself in for protection - they’re all out to kill him, I’ll bet.”
“Unbelievable,” Ginny said, shaking her head.
“You’re telling me.”
“Does Sean know about it?”
“I think so - there was a big hubbub in the area where Sean and Dr. Oh were working - I was on prisoner transfer detail when I went past, on my way to Azkaban, so I had no time to check it out further. Hermione and Ron were there... I think Hermione was crying, but she looked happy.”
“I’m sure she’s glad the mystery has been solved...”
“I can’t believe they didn’t owl you! But I’m sure they’ll fill you all in tonight.”
“I bet they will...” Ginny replied, still rather shocked. Why hadn't anyone owled? She was momentarily irritated, but she dismissed the thought - it was obviously a lot for Ron and Hermione to think about, let alone Sean.
“I wonder if reporters are going to harass Sean about this tonight," she continued. "Does the Prophet know about Peter yet?”
Tonks shrugged. “They’ll know by tomorrow...”
“Will they know the details this time? Will they know that Harry’s memories are gone?”
“Not sure - we’re still trying our best to keep that from the media - can you imagine? They'd never leave the poor guy alone - the Prophet loves making big out of those hard luck stories."
Ginny sighed and nodded. She could see it now - headlines for months, a neverending stream of Rita Skeeter-like reporters
"But this party tonight is a big event - the Prophet will have sent a photographer, at the very least, even without knowing about this Pettigrew stuff. It’s a good thing you two aren’t arriving together. You’d be front page news.”
Ginny groaned. She hated the idea of being photographed.
Tonks read her thoughts and smirked. “But you look great - I mean, if you're going to have your photo on the front page, tonight should be the night! And you’re running late! Better get there before your carriage turns into a pumpkin!”
“I know." Ginny rose from the comfy sofa and sighed. "I guess I can’t put it off any longer...”
Tonks smiled warmly and gave Ginny a hug. Ginny felt strange - in her high heels she was slightly taller than her friend.
“It’s going to be okay, Ginny,” Tonks whispered, squeezing her extra hard. “Just listen to your heart.”
“I’ll try,” she replied quietly, pulling out her wand. “And thanks for watching Ollie. You’re sure you’re okay with dropping him off tomorrow? I can come pick him up here if you’d like.”
“It’s not a problem, Ginny. I’ll come by after breakfast, around nine?”
“That's perfect. Thanks, Tonks.”
“Good luck!” Tonks squeezed her hand warmly.
Clutching her shawl and handbag nervously, Ginny Disapparated.
The cacophonous noise of the club overwhelmed Ginny as she appeared in the front lobby Apparition area. The Crystal Ball was a club owned by a Muggle-born witch in central London. It had been converted from a 19th century playhouse. Every second Saturday, the Muggles who frequented the club noticed it was mysteriously closed - why a popular London nightclub would close their doors on a Saturday night no one could fathom, except for the young wizards and witches who Apparated there. It was the famed favorite hangout of the Weird Sisters and several top Quidditch stars. Oliver had been one of their regulars before he and Ginny were married, he even came on Muggle nights.
Ginny had been there a handful of times with Oliver, and she’d popped in for last year’s fundraiser, rushing back home to her son after only an hour. Ginny thought the Crystal Ball was exactly like its’ namesake - dark, smoky, and confusing. There were a zillion little corridors branching off the dance floor that were supposed to lead to the exit. Ginny had gotten lost in them numerous times, and had to Apparate back to the lobby just to get her bearings.
The club was also always beyond crowded. Ginny loved to dance but she couldn’t fathom why the place was that popular - there were other Wizarding nightclubs with space to actually move on the dance floor.
“Ticket please, miss.” A burly-looking wizard with a scruffy beard was tapping her on shoulder.
“Oh, uh, of course.” Ginny dug in her purse and pulled out the orange ticket she’d been given - a special pass identifying her as a team member - and handed it to the man.
“Weasley? Oh, you’re that brilliant little chaser, huh - heard your name on the wireless.”
“Yeah? Uh, thanks.”
“Wouldn’t expect such an elite athlete to come in such a hot little package.” The man eyed her appreciatively as he passed the slip of paper back to her.
“Please excuse me,” Ginny said tersely, pushing past the burly wizard and pulling her shawl across her shoulders. “Bloody meat market,” she mumbled, pushing her way through the crowd towards the giant round bar in the center of the room - she could already see her brother; his bright red hair and height made it easy to pick him out of the crowd. By the time she reached him, she already felt sticky with the heat of too many people in too small of a space.
“Hey Ron.” She tugged on his sleeve, to get his attention.
“Little sister! You’re late!” her brother crowed, disentangling one of his arms from Hermione’s waist and hugging Ginny, spilling half of his drink on the floor in the process.
“And you, big brother, are sloshed!” Ginny laughed, looking over at Hermione, shocked to see a tall glass of something bubbly in her hands.
“You’re drinking too?”
Hermione grinned, sipping her drink, her pinkie finger in the air.
“’Course she is! Champagne! We’re celebrating the fact that Harry’s -”
Hermione elbowed her husband hard in the ribs, sending another splash of alcohol down the front of his shirt.
She eyed them both curiously, waiting for someone to finish the statement. “That Harry’s... what?”
“Uh... that Harry’s attacker was found. Peter Pettigrew - I’m assuming Tonks told you all about it,” Hermione replied brightly.
“She did,” Ginny replied, somewhat suspicious of the guarded look in her sister-in-law’s eyes. She had a feeling she was missing out on something. “Why didn’t you owl me earlier?”
“I thought maybe Sean would want to tell you about it,” Hermione replied.
Ginny nodded. Of course. "And how’s he doing with the news?”
“As well as can be expected, I suppose," she said, shrugging. "He’s around here somewhere.”
Ginny nodded. If he was anything like Harry, that meant he probably wasn't handling things well at all.
“It’s hot in here... I’m going to shrink this shawl and put it in my bag - I don’t want it to be covered in alcohol by night’s end.” She eyed her brother warily.
“Speaking of alcohol, you need to get yourself something!” Ron said, shoving her closer to the bar. “Oi, barkeep!”
No one paid him any mind - the bar was a complete madhouse, and the five bartenders were busy at the far end, their wands waving madly as they fixed drinks for the line-up of thirsty witches and wizards.
Ron continued ranting to Hermione about something having to do with Quidditch statistics, so Ginny shuffled down the bar a little way, twirling her pass impatiently between her fingers, waiting for service. It was abnormally hot in the club - a drink would do her good, and better yet, it would settle her nerves before Sean arrived.
“You have a VIP pass, love, you don’t need to wait for service,” a deep and somehow familiar voice behind her said.
Ginny spun around. Kirley McCormack from the Weird Sisters was standing there, immense and almost frightening in a black velvet coat and an ancient Cannons t-shirt, with large holes that looked to have been purposely ripped down the front. Ginny wished desperately that Tonks was there - she would never in a million years believe this. She tried to quash the urge to ask for his autograph.
“Thanks for the tip, what’s a VIP pass for?” she quipped.
“It’s for this.” He leaned over her and tapped his own orange pass three times on the bar. A haggard looking house elf suddenly appeared in front of them.
“I’ll have a Pink Fireball. And for you, miss?”
“Uh, that Pink firethingy sounds interesting...”
The house elf nodded and disappeared with a snap. Two seconds later, he re-appeared, two goblets in his knobby hands. They overflowed with steaming phosphorescent pink liquid that smelled strongly of alcohol.
“Thanks for the drink,” Ginny yelled over the din as Kirley passed her a goblet. “My name’s-”
“Ginny Weasley. Of course I know who you are,” He extended his giant hand. “And I’m-”
“Kirley McCormack. I know who you are too.” Ginny shook his hand, smiling stupidly, wishing once again that Colin Creevey would appear to snap a picture that would be magically delivered in a millisecond to Tonks.
“I follow your scoring stats,” Kirley said. “Very impressive.”
“Thanks very much. Your mum’s one of my heroes,” Ginny replied, grinning. Katrina McCormack was a Quidditch legend. She led Pride of Portree to two league wins in the 1960s, and had one of the longest running careers in Quidditch, having played for Scotland thirty-six times. Her daughter Meghan was currently Portree’s Keeper, one of the toughest in the League.
“My Mum has come to watch you play a couple times. She’s quite impressed with your speed,” Kirley added.
“Really?” Ginny felt momentarily awestruck.
“Absolutely,” he nodded, pouring the giant drink down his throat. Ginny realized she hadn’t tried the strange beverage yet and took a gulp, the strength of the concoction burning her throat.
“Wow - what’s in this drink?”
“Spanish Firewhisky and a splash of sarsaparilla.”
“It’s sort of... uh, intense.”
“It is, but only if you sip at it like that. It’s meant to be downed in one great gulp - try that.”
Ginny shrugged. Eyeing Kirley warily, she gulped the beverage down. He was right, it didn’t burn as much, instead leaving a warm sensation in her mouth and throat that was different than normal Firewhisky, more spicy, like cinnamon.
“You’re right - that was much better,” Ginny replied.
“Here, let me order you another,” Kirley was tapping his card on the bar again.
“That’s very nice of you, but I’m actually okay...” She trailed off, as Kirley turned back around, two neon pink goblets already in his giant hands. The back of Ginny’s neck pricked with a strange awareness - must be the Firewhisky, she thought. She’d never had more than a few sips before, usually preferring wine or butterbeer. She felt warm and comfortable, protected.
“Thanks - this one will put me at my limit for the evening, I think,” Ginny said as Kirley pressed the drink into her hand. He didn’t answer, already in the process of downing his own drink like it was pumpkin juice. Ginny shrugged and likewise gulped it down - no big deal. She thought about Sean and her heart rate increased. Maybe the alcohol was a good idea - she was nervous, it would help her relax.
“Did you know they only make Pink Fireballs here? They import this Firewhisky especially on request of the Weird Sisters - it’s a very rare vintage.”
“Wow, that’s really interesting,” Ginny replied, smiling politely. She knew she was supposed to be impressed by this information, but she wasn’t. It was, however, something Ron would love - she’d have to tell him to try one. Ginny made a mental note to hand over her VIP card to her brother, who would adore the prompt bar service of the house elves, although Hermione would surely complain.
“So, Ginny, I was thinking maybe you and I might-”
“OOOH! KIRLEY! Is that really you??!” An exceedingly thin blonde witch caked thickly in makeup pulled at the tall man’s sleeve.
“Tina,” he replied flatly. “Hello.”
“Fancy seeing you here, huh?”
“Yeah, listen, Tina. I’m supposed to meet the blokes in the VIP Room about now... Ginny, you should drop by later-” he reached out and squeezed her shoulder.
“Yeah, sure-” Ginny replied, somewhat distracted, as Kirley disappeared with a pop. She shivered; the hair on the back of her arms was standing on end like she’d been touched by electricity. She put the empty goblet back on the bar. What the hell was in that drink?
The thin blonde witch stared at her angrily for a moment. Ginny shrugged - what had she done wrong? The girl spun around and stomped angrily off, shoving her way through the crowd.
Someone squeezed her shoulder and Ginny spun around. It was Hermione.
“Harry, I mean, Sean was just by here looking for you,” Hermione said, looking around the room aimlessly. Ginny couldn’t believe her straight-laced friend had been drinking. “But I don’t know where he went now - there’s just so many people here...”
Ginny looked across the crowd, searching in vain for Sean’s black hair in the crowd.
“Who was that bloke you were talking with? He looked strange,” Hermione asked curiously.
“Kirley from the Weird Sisters. And he was strange, really strange.”
“Do you want the rest of this champagne?” Hermione asked, pressing the glass into Ginny’s hand. “It was quite expensive, it shouldn’t go to waste. But I feel a little tipsy. I worry I might be ill later.”
Ginny took the glass reluctantly. She wouldn’t drink it, but Hermione shouldn’t either. “You should let Ron know you’re not feeling well.”
“But he’s having so much fun,” Hermione replied, gazing over at her husband adoringly. Ron was about ten feet away, immersed in an intense conversation with Fred and Angelina, as well as Ripley Richards, the Cannon’s second string Keeper.
“Surely he can talk to those people any old time,” Ginny said convincingly, leading Hermione back to her husband, the prickly feeling still following her as they pushed through the crowd.
“You think so?”
“Of course,” Ginny said, as Hermione reached out and wrapped her arms around her husband’s waist again. The music suddenly grew louder as the DJ tried to draw more people onto the already crowded dance floor. The bass rattled Ginny’s chest, she had to stand on tiptoes to yell into Ron’s ear.
“Your wife’s had too much to drink,” she hollered.
“I know.” Ron waggled his eyebrows. “It’s bloody brilliant.”
“Take this,” Ginny pressed her VIP card into her brother’s hand. “Tap this card on the bar three times - it lets you jump the queue. You should order yourself something called a Pink Fireball - they’re brilliant. And order Hermione a sobering potion - she thinks she might be sick later.”
Ron goggled at the card, clapping his sister on the back. “Thanks, Gin. You know, your date is somewhere around these parts looking for you.”
“So I’ve heard,” Ginny replied. “Can you see him?”
Ron craned his neck and looked up and over the crowd. The people near the bar had dispersed somewhat as the dance floor filled with people, however the club still seemed impossibly full.
“I can’t see him anywhere right now, Gin. But you should go find him!” He nudged her away. “It’s important you find him!”
“Why?”
“Why? ...Well, uh, you... you’re dateless! And this place is a meat market!”
“I can hold my own just fine, Ron!” she asserted, crossing her arms grumpily.
“I know, I know,” Ron sputtered. “Just find him soon, yeah? You two have a lot to talk about.”
Ginny rolled her eyes and nodded, her fingers playing idly with the stem of the champagne flute. It seemed stupid to roam aimlessly through the club, to push her way through the thick, sweaty crowd. If Sean wanted to find her, she’d be right there - after all, he knew where Ron was.
She sighed, sipping absently from the champagne flute when the strange warm prickling feeling on the back of Ginny’s neck came back again. She turned around, leaning on the bar and looking out across the dance floor.
And then she saw him . Their eyes met and Ginny felt that same strange warmth she'd been feeling since she arrived. He’d been watching her. It hadn’t been the alcohol at all; her body knew the weight of his gaze. Ginny pulse doubled, her knees grew weak and wobbly.
She wasn’t ready for this. She hadn’t expected this sort of physical reaction to just seeing him across the room. She looked a little desperately at the remaining champagne in the glass in her hand and gulped it down in one smooth swallow - she would need all the help she could get.
She left the relative safety of the bar and headed towards him, watching him move gracefully through the crowd. His hair was boyishly dishevelled, his stylish black robes fit snugly, tailored perfectly across his chest. Ginny bit her lip. He looked amazing. She swore she could see the green of his eyes from across the room. She noticed witches and wizards alike turn, realizing it really was the face from the front page of every Wizarding newspaper; it really was The Boy Who Lived, The Man Who Returned. Harry Potter himself was pushing his way past them, looking very seriously at a red-haired girl halfway across the room.
Ginny watched as someone tapped his shoulder and he turned. She lost sight of him entirely as she pushed between a group of tall wizards. When she found him again, he was a little closer - he was talking to someone she didn't recognize, and a pretty young witch in tight red robes was pulling at his other arm, trying to make him dance. He smiled politely but firmly, declining her offer. His eyes scanned the crowd again for her.
Ginny felt unbelievably warm - she almost couldn’t handle it. She needed more time, another drink. Something, anything. She turned around to head back to the safety of Ron and Hermione’s comfortable outpost by the bar. A few more minutes to collect her thoughts, to fix her hair and her lipstick, and maybe she’d be ready. Maybe-
“Ginny,” he said, his hand suddenly closing on her shoulder. She spun around, his hand on her bare skin causing a shockwave through her body.
“Hi, Sean.” She knew he could feel her shiver at his touch, but she still tried to sound casual. “This place is mad. I’m glad I finally found you-”
“We need to talk,” he interrupted tersely, grabbing her arm. “Can we leave?”
Ginny’s heart jumped. She couldn’t be alone with him, not right now.
“Uh, can’t we dance first?” she asked.
“I don’t want to - could we just go?” he snapped.
“You’re angry.” Ginny said flatly, looking into his eyes. They were dark and empty, as though he’d pulled a curtain across his emotions. “I know you're angry, Sean. I heard about Pettigrew. I hope he rots in Azkaban for what he did to you.”
“He certainly deserves it,” he replied bitterly.
“Let’s forget the bad stuff for a moment and just dance." She couldn't leave with him. Those familiar smoldering eyes reminded her of what she'd been telling herself she had to forget.
"Dance for awhile and then we can talk," she asserted. She couldn't trust herself to leave with him. Who knew what would happen when they were alone? Even the thought of being alone somewhere with him made Ginny's heart skip "Please?”
“I don’t dance...”
But Ginny had pulled herself free from his grip, heading onto the dance floor. She looked around at the witches and their partners, moving saucily, confidently. What the hell was she doing? Oliver had tried to teach her to dance to club music; he’d assured her that she was a good dancer, but she felt shy regardless.
“Ginny.” Sean grabbed her arm again, spinning her around to face him. Ginny searched the hard, angry lines of his face, his eyes revealed absolutely nothing. “I told you I don’t want to dance. We have to talk.”
“You don’t have to dance if you don’t want to, but you’re hurting me.” She peeled his fingers off her arm, both worried and slightly irritated by his pushiness. “What’s wrong, Sean?”
Ginny shivered again as Sean’s eyes raked slowly up and down her body, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.
“You... so you’re not going to answer me?" she sputtered. "I thought you wanted to talk. What in the world is wrong?”
“You said you wanted to dance,” he replied, the anger in his voice barely in check. “Have it your way. We’ll dance.”
Ginny stared at him in confusion as he reached forward and put his hands on her waist, pulling her against him almost roughly. The music pulsed suggestively as he guided her to the centre of the dance floor, away from the eyes of the crowd of onlookers gathered at the edge of the dance floor.
What in Merlin’s name could be wrong with him? she wondered, baffled. She knew she had every right to pull away, but instead she met his angry gaze resolutely. They were as still as statues, staring at each other.
“Are you going to start dancing, or should I just stare at your shoulder while you scowl moddily?” she asked after a few moments, a single eyebrow raised.
“Depends. How much have you had to drink tonight?” he asked tersely.
“Three drinks,” she replied calmly, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
“Is that a lot for you?”
“If you’re asking me if I’m drunk, the answer is no.”
“You’re sure about that?”
Ginny nodded.
He smiled, his mouth still hard and angry as he spun her around expertly, as though he'd been dancing for years. His firm lead was confident and assuring. Where in the world had he learned to dance? she wondered, as he steered her further towards the back of the dance floor. Here, the crowd of dancers was thicker, the music even louder.
“I thought you said you didn’t dance,” she yelled, grinning despite herself. "You're really good at this."
He shrugged almost nonchalantly, his hands sliding sensuously down over her hips. “Move with me,” he mouthed.
Ginny nodded nervously as Sean’s hands traced up to the curve of her waist, then back down over her hips, a rough caress. He looked intently down at her, the faint traces of a smile touching the corners of his mouth, but Ginny could still see the latent anger in his eyes. She felt heat shoot through her body as they moved in unison, his strong hands guiding her movements, the rhythm of the music pulsing through their bodies.
She could barely look at him. He was amazing, sexy, the way he moved made Ginny blush. Everyone was looking at him, at his hands touching her. One hand travelled up her back, pressing her body close to his. Ginny could feel the tension and anger radiating from him in waves. He leaned down, his mouth against her ear.
“Who was that bloke you were you talking to earlier?”
Ginny craned to reach his ear, her lips tickling his skin.“You mean the tall one?”
He nodded.
“Why? Were you jealous?” she asked, searching his face.
He laughed harshly. “You’d like it if I said I was, huh?”
“That’s why you’re angry?” Ginny asked. “Because you’re jealous? Don't be ridiculous!”
“Who was he?” He slid both his hands slowly up her back. Ginny shivered, arching against him.
“Kirley. The singer from the Weird Sisters.”
“D’you like him?”
“I just met him, Sean! Of course not!” she hissed. Half of her wanted to shove him, to walk away and leave him on the dance floor. But the other half of her wanted something else entirely.
“Was he interested in you?”
“Am I on trial for something, Sean?” Ginny exclaimed, exasperated. “You have no reason to be jealous of that man. None whatsoever.”
“I’m not jealous of him, per se.” he replied calmly, his hand moving up to caress her neck, her shoulder.
Ginny felt her temperature rise with his touch. “Of who, then?”
He acted as though he hadn’t heard her. “Jealousy is a complex thing, Ginny,” he stated coldly, fingering the strap on her dress. “Very complex. You couldn’t begin to understand-”
“Maybe I could understand if I knew what the bloody hell you’re talking about,” she snapped. “Am I offending you in some way I’m unaware of?”
He shrugged, feigning that same unaffected nonchalance. Ginny knew it was a game.
“I don’t know. What do you think?” he replied sarcastically.
Ginny fumed. “You know, maybe we should leave. Maybe we do need to talk.”
He nodded in agreement, but neither of them made any move to stop dancing. His hands were wandering up her back again, gliding across her shoulders, then slowly down her arms. She closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. Her careful plans for dancing a few songs, having a glass of champagne, letting Sean kiss her goodnight before she Apparated home at midnight had dissolved. She could still feel tension radiating from him. It felt a little as though she was suffocating the closer she got to him. What had she done? What did he think she’d done?
The song changed and the tempo quickened, beginning to build towards something more heated, as though the music read her secret desires. Ginny was acutely aware that their faces were only inches apart. Slowly, her eyes still pressed tightly closed, she slid her hands down his chest, fingers splayed. His heartbeat pulsed beneath her fingers, quick and turbulent. Hers was beating that way too, but it wasn’t because she was angry. She tried to take another deep breath, to steady her increasingly erratic pulse, but it was impossible - her body wouldn’t listen to her.
She opened her eyes. His face was so close to hers, his green eyes burning. This time, she could read exactly what he was thinking - and it was the same thing she was thinking. His anger had been momentarily swept aside, replaced by something just as intense. She met his gaze, pressing her forehead against his, a nervous sort of thrill shooting straight down her spine to the soles of her feet.
His thumb traced her collarbone as she looped her hands back around his neck. His eyes were on her mouth.
‘Kiss me’ she thought at him, staring deep into his eyes. ‘I dare you to kiss me in this room full of people and reporters, Sean Collins. I dare you.’
He unconsciously licked his lips, as though he was about to do exactly that, and she smiled up at him seductively.
“Don’t smile at me. I’m angry, remember?” he said, his voice tinged with humour. “You wouldn’t want to antagonize me further.”
“Maybe that's exactly what I want,” she replied throatily, pressing her body against his. Sean looked down at her, his eyes heavy-lidded. She gasped a little as his hands moved up the sides of her body to her ribcage, pressing her against him - she could feel the heat of his touch through the thin silk. He slid his hands back down to her hips, holding her close.
And the music began to change and mellow into a painfully slow rhythm that made Ginny’s body ache. Sean’s arms wrapped around her, held her against his chest. She relaxed against him with a shaky sigh as his fingers trailed through her hair.
They were so close they were like one person, barely swaying. Every nerve ending in her body throbbed with the awareness of contact, the heat of his body. Slowly, she felt him begin to relax. It was as though she could see the black clouds of anger disperse and evaporate. His cheek was resting on the top of her head. He exhaled shakily, squeezing her tightly.
“Mmmm. Sean, this moment is completely perfect,” she said.
Ginny felt his body go absolutely rigid. He peeled her hands off his back and held her at arm’s length, his arms quivering as though he wanted to shake her.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing, I-”
“What did you JUST say, Ginny?” he demanded.
“I said that moment was perfect,” she replied, hurt and bewildered.
“What you said is, ‘Sean, this moment is completely perfect.’ ”
“Yes, but what-”
“You meant it. I could tell by your voice. You meant exactly what you said.”
“Of course I did!” Ginny snapped, yanking herself away. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong? Nothing's bloody wrong! That’s what I was going to tell you...”
But Ginny didn’t hear the rest. She was pushing through the crowd, heading towards the back corridors. They were confusing at best, but she knew that after the first few turns, the Apparition wards were no longer in place, and she could get herself home.
Besides, she’d rather be lost and confused in some dark, empty corridor than lost and confused with whatever emotional games Sean was playing. The whole night had obviously been a giant mistake. She wiped the hot tears from the corner of her eyes, and pushed through the door, hurrying down the long, dark corridor.
She heard the door slam open behind her as he pursued her. "Ginny, please! Wait-” he yelled.
Ginny refused to look back, veering around a curve to her right and running clumsily in her heels into the darkness. The moment really had been perfect, in Ginny's eyes. Apparently, Sean thought otherwise. How could she have been so wrong about him? Her entire chest ached - all she wanted was to throw herself onto her bed and cry away her hurt and frustration.
She sped up - she could hear him behind her, far away, but still in pursuit. She ran past a few snakelike passageways, and turned again, hoping he'd lose her trail. Bass still shook the walls, but by this point, the music had faded to almost a whisper. She stopped, leaning against the wall to gasp and choke back her tears, fumbling in her bag for her wand.
But before she could find it, Sean found her.
“Don’t-” she sobbed, as he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her towards him. They stumbled back against the wall. His lips crushed down onto hers, and she moaned as the unexpected passion of the kiss completely overwhelmed her, every ounce of anger and hurt and passion finding an outlet at last. Her leg wrapped around him as he pressed her hard against the brick, their mouths fighting each other frantically.
Her fingers raked recklessly down his back, as he kissed her neck and shoulders with hungry desperation. He sucked and bit her lower lip as her fingers tore open the buttons on his robe, as she arched her body against his, her hands inside his shirt sliding across the hot skin of his chest. She kissed him with every ounce of frustration that she felt, pulling his hair, bruising his mouth against her own. Sean's hand travelled under the hem of her dress, his fingers sliding across the skin of her thigh. Ginny yanked feverishly at the buttons on his shirt.
“I hear someone,” he whispered raggedly. They both froze, gasping for air. Ginny heard drunken laughter and footsteps echoing down the labyrinthine corridor, quickly growing louder.
"Oh hell," Ginny pushed him away, frantically tried to straighten herself. But the voices never quite reached them, fading away down one of the other corridors.
She smoothed her hair down looked over at him. He was staring at her, his eyes shining with lust, but still masked with an anger and pain she couldn't begin to comprehend. She seized her wand and muttered the ward testing incantation - her wand emitting a series of green sparks.
“Ginny, what the hell are you doing? Don't leave, I-”
She closed her eyes and Disapparated with a loud pop.
She opened her eyes a moment later in her bedroom. She kicked off her shoes and dropped her purse beside the bed with a strangled sob. This was awful, horrible; what had possessed her to throw herself at him? The spite, the anger and misery in his voice, what had she done? She didn't deserve to be treated that way - how horrible he'd made her feel, and then she'd kissed him? How had everything turned so crazy-
A pop only feet away. She screamed in abject terror, scrambling for her wand.
“Sean!” she gasped in disbelief. He was standing in the middle of her bedroom, his robes still tousled and half-unbuttoned from their encounter.
“I cast a tracking charm on you as you Disapparated..." he said curtly. "I’m sorry if it seemed presumptuous, but I couldn’t just let you go without an explanation...”
Ginny simply stared at him, her mouth wide. How dare he follow her home, into her bloody bedroom of all places. And how did he know to cast that charm? Ginny realized she had never been so angry in her entire life. She glared at him, her mouth moving soundlessly.
And suddenly he was kissing her with that same deliciously reckless abandon, and it was so achingly good that Ginny wasn't entirely sure it wasn't some sort of dream. Within a few seconds, they were stumbling uncontrollably backwards, their mouths violent and greedy, their shins banging against the edge of her bed. Sean fell back onto the bed, pulling Ginny down on top of him with a strangled moan.
Chapter 17: Chapter 16: More Than Perfect
Chapter 16: More than PerfectGinny stirred slowly from sleep, hazy memories of the night before drifting through her head. Should I feel guilty? she wondered. There was a little part of her that did, but that feeling was eclipsed by a overwhelming, almost giddy joy. She rolled over, reaching towards the other side of the bed with a languid caress, but she felt only the cool cotton of her bedsheets beneath her fingers. She opened her eyes.
Sean stood in front of the big bay window in his boxers, leaning on the sill, looking out over the rolling countryside. The gauzy white curtains billowed gently in the breeze. The scene looked oddly familiar, like something Ginny had once dreamt. As though he felt her watching, he turned around.
“Good morning,” he whispered, grinning sleepily.
"It is," she replied, grinning shyly. He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over to kiss her forehead.
Ginny ruffled his messy hair and pulled him towards her, her mouth travelling wantonly across his neck as he slid under the covers.
He laughed, smoothing her messy hair off her face. “I just can’t tire you out, can I?”
“Not a chance,” she replied saucily, arching against him. She reached over and touched the wand on the nightstand, muttering the contraceptive spell under her breath. Her wand glowed pink for half a second, activating the charm.
“Oh bloody hell, what in Merlin’s name am I doing...?” he muttered, half to himself. He rolled away and sat up, his palms pressed hard against his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Ginny reached over.
“Nothing... No... everything! I should have said something last night and now it's a right mess...” he trailed off.
"What is it?" She sat up beside him, wrapping her arm around his waist. He acted as though she wasn’t there, inhaling deeply, his hands still over his face.
“Does this have to do with what we didn’t talk about last night?” she continued. She felt the familiar ache of worry building in her chest again.
He nodded.
“Well, we can talk about it now, can’t we?"
He was silent.
Ginny rubbed her hand along his shoulder, a comforting gesture. "What’s wrong, Sean?”
Ginny could swear she saw him flinch at the sound of his name, as though she had hit him.
“Everything is wrong!" he yelled. "What the hell are you even doing with me, Ginny?”
“What...what do you mean?”
Sean was standing up, pulling his clothes on.
“This. Us. Last night. It shouldn’t have happened like this, Ginny.”
Ginny pulled the sheet tight around herself and turned away, biting her lip so hard it almost drew blood. She wouldn’t cry, she couldn't, not in front of him.
She heard him swear quietly as he sat back down on the bed, reaching out for her hand. She couldn't look at him.
“I’m sorry, Gin, I... Oh bloody hell, I didn’t mean it like that," he sighed, frustrated. "What I meant to say is that it was unfair that I didn’t talk to you before we slept together. I’m a git..."
She took a shaky breath and forced herself to look at him.
“If you think last night was a mistake, then you should leave-”
“Ginny, I-”
“Please,” she said, her voice flat and emotionless. “Just go.”
One hot tear spilled, down her cheek, and she swiped it away. He didn’t move. She stared at him, her entire body aching with an
indescribable pain.
"I'm not leaving." He swallowed heavily and continued. “Don't tell me you haven't figured it out yet, Gin.”
“Figured what out?”
“I’m back,” he said, his voice haggard and unsure.
Ginny’s heart leapt into her throat. He couldn't mean what she thought he meant.... could he? The room was silent except for the tick of the clock on the night table.
"I know," she finally said, her voice barely a whisper. In the deepest, most secret part of her heart, she had known it was him at the club. She knew the second she looked into his eyes. How could she not know? The tilt of his head, the permanently worried crease across his brow, the ethereal heat that woke in her body at his touch, his touch and no one else's. Harry.
Her entire body was tight with fear - he was so angry. He was going to leave her again. She knew that too.
"When... when did you remember?"
“Yesterday morning."
"But how..."
"It worked, Gin. The new round of therapy worked, I guess. I woke up, and my whole life was there again, as though I had fallen asleep four years ago and dreamt this whole Sean thing. Everything clicked into place while I slept.”
Ginny had been holding her breath. She looked at him and gasped.
“Oh, Harry. I'm so sorry.”
“And I'm sorry. I should have told you last night, the very second I saw you. I should have left MLES and came to you, the second it happened.”
“No. Please. It’s okay,” she replied, staring down at her shaking hand clasped inside his, overwhelmed by the massive swell of feelings hitting her all at once. There he was, the answer to everything she’d ever wanted, warm and real and beautiful beside her.
“I missed you,” she said, unable to control the tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I know... don't cry, love, please," he said, reaching out for her.
"I.. I can't help it." She slid into his outstretched arms, her entire body shaking.
He stroked her hair, rocking her gently.
"It'll be okay, Ginny."
"Don't say it unless it's true," she whispered.
She waited for him to say it was true, that it would be okay, more than okay, but he was quiet. Ginny felt the hot tension in her chest fragment into a million crystalline pieces. She pictured her heart breaking like glass.
A moment later, she took a deep breath and forced herself to pull away, mustering every ounce of her strength. "I'm sorry I never looked for you."
"I'm not upset about that, Ginny," he replied. "How could you have found me? The Aurors couldn't."
"Tell me why you're angry." She knew why. There were a billion reasons for him to hate her forever. But she wanted to hear them from his mouth.
He swallowed heavily before he replied, running a hand through his messy hair. "I don’t know that I'm angry anymore - I think I was last night, but then I saw you, and you were so beautiful, and all I really knew then was how badly I wanted you.”
"Oh, Harry." Ginny reached out and ran a hand down his cheek. His eyes were bright with unshed tears as he kissed her hand.
“I was angry because I knew you wanted to be with someone else last night. You thought you were making love to him."
The shock of what he was saying made Ginny's blood run cold. “What? No, you... you don't understand, Harry- ”
“I do understand. You said at the pub that it was time to move on and forget about Harry-”
“No!" she sobbed. "Please listen-”
“I did listen, Gin. I listened when you told Sean that he and I weren’t the same person, that you could never see us as the same. Of course we're the same person, Ginny - couldn't you see?
"I know, Harry, I know that now-"
"But did you know that last night? Last night, when I was holding you, when I was dancing with the woman I loved, when I was really there with her for the first time in four bloody years, and everything inside me transformed, everything suddenly became wonderful again, just because you were there. There was such love in your voice when you said, “This is completely perfect, Sean.”
“It wasn’t perfect,” Ginny sobbed desperately.“Don’t you get it? It wasn’t the truth. None of it was the truth.”
“You don't lie,” he replied sadly.
“But I was lying,” she wept, no longer bothering to wipe away the tears pouring down her cheeks. “I thought you were gone forever, Harry, that I would never talk to you again. I looked into your eyes, Sean's eyes, and you didn’t know me, you had no bloody idea how crazy I was about you, how in love with you I was. I had to make you into someone else, someone that didn’t remind me that everything I’d ever wanted had become a hopeless impossibility."
"It was never impossible, Ginny."
"What was I supposed to do? Hope? I couldn't hope for you to come back and then have you never return - it would have killed me. That very first day, when you woke up and we talked on the stairs at the Burrow and I knew every single thing about you, Harry. I knew the words you would use, the way you’d push your hair off your face, the way you wrinkle your nose just a little when you grin. I was there, just absorbing all of that, every perfect, intricate detail of you, Harry, my Harry, for the first time in years."
"Ginny-"
"-And I was talking to you, Harry, and my whole heart was screaming for you, and you were oblivious. You had no idea what we were to each other - what else was I supposed to do? I had to make myself believe that it was Sean touching me, that it was Sean kissing me - that you were gone completely. I had to believe I wasn’t pathetic enough to love someone who didn’t even exist. I worked so hard to convince myself - that's all I did - but the whole time, everything was a lie. It was always you, Harry. Underneath everything, it will always be you.”
And suddenly he was hugging her breathless against his chest. “Gin, I’m sorry," he gasped. "I’m so sorry.”
“I’m the one who should be sorry. I stopped trusting... I thought you left us on purpose four years ago."
"Stop punishing yourself, Ginny. You couldn't have done anything else."
"I could have!" she insisted tearfully. "I could have looked! What's worse is that after you left, I broke every single promise I made to you.”
“No, no, you didn’t,” he said. “You just broke one little one-”
“I’m sorry about Oliver, Harry." Ginny interupted. "I’m sorry if that hurts you-”
“Shhh, it’s okay, Ginny. We can talk about Oliver later. That’s not the promise I was talking about.”
"It's not?"
He shook his head. "One night, before the last battle, I made you promise that if ever I was gone, you would stay exactly as perfect as you were back then. Everything I was facing in my future seemed so awful, except you Ginny. I needed you, I needed that perfect girl I was holding in my arms. You were my hope. You were the reason for everything. I wanted you to be the same, forever and always, because there was no way you could have been any more lovely.”
Ginny nodded, remembering that night.
“That’s the promise you broke, Ginny, the promise that you’d never change. You went and changed so much.You’re incredible, you know that? You’re more beautiful than ever, and you're strong, and smart, and you’re such a brilliant mother. You amaze me, Ginny. I thought I left behind someone perfect and now I've come back to someone even better than perfect.”
Ginny shook her head. “I’m not even close to perfect, silly,” she blubbered, swiping at her nose.
He smiled, his hand caressing her cheek. “I know. Because you’re more than perfect.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she said, laughing a little despite herself.
"And although I'm not happy about you marrying Oliver, maybe he's a part of that, you know? This new and improved grown-up Ginny. You could have met a worse bloke, who'd have made you move to Timbuktu and shave your head or something."
Ginny grinned. "Oh you heard about Steve, then. He didn't accept my proposal."
Harry looked at her in feigned shock for a moment, before they both burst into laughter.
Was it really... was it actually going to be okay after all of that? It felt like it might be, but a tiny part of Ginny steadfastly refused to believe this was true.
And then Harry's mouth closed over hers. The kiss was sweet and slow and wonderful, infused with hope and wonder and longing. When she opened her eyes, she was laying on her back beneath him, her hands tangled in his messy hair.
Harry nuzzled her cheek. “Now I think that losing my memories may be the best thing that ever happened to me."
“Why’s that?”
“Because I get to remember falling in love with you twice.”
Ginny pressed tiny kisses all over his face. “It’s really you, huh?”
“Yeah,” he breathed, wiping the tears off her cheek with his thumb. “It’s really you and me again.”
Ginny buried her face in his neck for a long moment. She felt almost numb with joy. She realized she had stopped hoping for this a long time ago - she couldn’t believe it was true.
“And you still remember everything that happened as Sean?”
“Of course."
“Will people call you Sean or Harry now?”
“Either. Both. I don’t care.”
“How about Sharry?” Ginny laughed.
“Hawn’s shorter,” Harry replied mock-seriously.
“You look like a Harry, though. You really do.” She gazed adoringly into his face.
“So I’ve heard,” he grinned, kissing her forehead.
“How ever did I find you in that maze of a city?” Ginny asked. “How do crazy things like that happen?”
“I think it was fate.”
“Fate, huh? You really believe in that stuff?”
“Maybe.” He smirked. “I think we were meant for each other. Is that what fate is?”
“I’m not sure,” Ginny replied, suddenly finding herself very distracted by the idea that she had Harry Potter in her bed.
“Do you remember everything from before?" she asked, her eyes sparkling mischvously. "Every single, teeny-tiny minute detail?”
"I think so," he nodded, looking at her curiously.
Ginny pressed her left hip against him. It was something she used to do with Harry, a request to roll over. To her delight, he remembered and complied, and she shifted her weight on top of him, smiling seductively as her hands slid down his chest. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of his underwear.
“Time for a pop quiz.”
“I hate these,” he joked, rolling his eyes.
“You won’t hate this one!"
"Promise?"
Ginny crossed her heart. "Question number one: Do you remember the first time we kissed?”
“Prefect's bathroom... no? uh... Ravenclaw common room!” he wrinkled his nose as though he was having trouble recalling it.
"You git," she laughed, tickling his ribs. He squirmed with laughter, swatting her hands away.
“That's the only mistake you get... and believe me, you do not want to fail this exam.... Question number two: do you recall the first time we saw each other naked?”
“A Saturday afternoon near the end of January, about three thirty in the afternoon. Second floor broom closet, next to the statue of the fighting mermen. Your knickers were pink, with little daisies on them.”
“Correct, Mr. Potter!” Ginny laughed, sliding his boxers down.
Harry grinned roguishly. “You’re right. I think I'm going to like this quiz.”
Ginny giggled, sliding back up his body. “Question number three: do you remember the first time we did this-”
Ginny’s question was interrupted by a loud popping sound directly below them. Ginny looked in terror at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Ten minutes before nine.
“Oh Merlin, it’s Tonks with Ollie,” she whispered, scrambling for her wand. “Accio robe!”
She shrugged clumsily into her old purple bathrobe as Harry yanked the sheet off the bed and rushed to find his clothes, which had been scattered in disarray the night before. Ginny sprinted to the bedroom door, trying to walk down the stairs to greet Tonks with a semblance of typical Sunday morning calm.
But would he leave? The thought hurt her head - he couldn’t leave. Harry Potter was back, he was back forever and he was in her bloody bed, for Merlin’s sake. Ginny’s felt as though she might explode with happiness.
“Mummy!” Ollie yelled gleefully, running across the family room towards her.
“Hey, little guy!” Ginny said, picking up her son and spinning him around before kissing him on the forehead. “How was your morning with Auntie Tonks?”
“Fun!” he crowed. “Ollie play lots and lots!”
“Lucky guy!”
“An’ I was good boy! No crying!” he announced proudly.
“He was a very good boy,” Tonks said, grinning at Ollie and Ginny. “He slept through the whole night, no problems.”
“I miss you, Mummy!” Ollie said, wrapping his arms around his mother’s neck.
“Oh, I missed you too, Oliver.”
“Ollie play with Gemma now!” he yelled, trying to wiggle free of his mother’s arms. She placed him on the ground and he ran towards the little girl, both of them suddenly screaming loudly before rushing into the kitchen.
Ginny laughed. “What’s the screaming game called?”
“I think I’ll call it ‘Oh hell!’ The terrible twos come a few months early!” Tonks said, flopping onto the couch. Ginny’s heart pounded wildly. Tonks was planning to stay for a chat, Ginny could tell. She thought nervously of Harry upstairs, waiting. Don’t leave, Harry, she pleaded silently. Please don’t leave.
“So, how was the date?” Tonks asked brightly.
“Uh... it was good...”
Maybe she should just tell her Ginny thought. Was she allowed to? It was Tonks, after all.
Tonks looked at her concernedly. “Ginny, have you been crying? What happened?”
“It’s fine, Tonks. It’s-”
“HI, UNCLE!” Ollie crowed from the kitchen. Ginny’s heart froze.
Tonks mouth dropped open in surprise, and both girls simultaneously burst into hysterical laughter.
“I knew it!” Tonks wheezed.
“It’s not funny,” Ginny tried to say, falling into the couch beside her friend, clutching her sides.
“Apparently it is!” Tonks giggled, trying to regain control of herself.
“No, but seriously! How in the world am I supposed to explain this sort of thing to Ollie?” Ginny whispered, wiping the tears off her cheeks.
“Well, he didn’t see him in your bed or anything; I wouldn’t think you’d have anything difficult to explain. Sean’s not a stranger.”
Ginny could hear the cadence of Harry’s voice talking in the kitchen, Ollie’s bright laughter.
“Don’t tell me you’re feeling guilty about having a bloke over, Ginny!”
“No! Well, maybe a little...”
Tonks swatted her arm. “Don’t be silly. You didn’t take a vow of celibacy, did you?”
Ginny rolled her eyes, and shifted awkwardly. “Of course not! It’s just... I’m someone’s mum, you know?”
“And that means you’re a nun forever? Hogwash!”
“Uh, Hi Tonks...”
Harry stood in the doorway, his face pink with embarrassment. His dress robes were draped over his arm, his white shirt inside out and mis-buttoned. Ginny heard Tonks snort loudly and bury her face in Ginny’s shoulder, quivering with laughter.
Ginny tried to quell her own rising desire to giggle as Harry’s face grew even redder.
“Um...Hi Tonks... Ginny, can I talk to you in the kitchen for a second?” he asked, chewing on his lip nervously.
Ginny nodded, and hopped up from the couch, biting the inside of her own lip to keep herself from joining Tonks once again in contagious giggling. The shrieking children, dashed past Ginny and Harry and across the family room, this time Gemma chasing Ollie.
“I’m sorry about all this,” she whispered, linking hands with Harry and pulling him into the kitchen.
“It’s okay,” Harry hugged her, pressing her against the counter gently. “I was trying to sneak out the back door. I have some things I need to take care of today."
"Of course."
But I'd like to talk later. What are you doing today?”
“I’d planned to take Ollie to the park this afternoon, and then to visit his Grandpa Wood for tea,” Ginny said, snuggling into Harry’s neck. “And once I put Ollie to bed, I’m going to find you, Mr. Harry Sean Potter Collins or whatever you’re calling yourself these days, as long as you promise we'll do more than just talk...”
Harry nuzzled her cheek. “I promise. What time should I come by?”
Ginny nodded, kissing his neck. “How about nine? I want to make sure a certain little boy is sound asleep before you arrive-”
Ginny pushed Harry away suddenly as that very same little boy, followed by a screeching Gemma raced into the kitchen, this time waving rubber wands in the air at each other. Ginny’s gesture was unnecessary - the toddlers took no notice of the adults as they looped around the table and ran back into the family room.
“Sorry I pushed you away,” Ginny apologized, feeling awful about what she'd just done. “I just don’t know how to explain this to him yet-”
“Shh-” Harry pressed his finger against her lips. “I know. There's no apology needed.”
Ginny nodded, kissing his hand.
“I should go. I’ll be counting the minutes until tonight,” Harry said, pulling her close again.
“Me too,” Ginny breathed.
His mouth pressed gently but insistently against hers. Ginny felt like she was melting into him. There she was, kissing Harry Potter in her messy kitchen, and she had never felt so happy or complete.
He ran his hand down the side of her face, and then pulled out his wand. “Give Tonks my regards. I don’t want to go back in there and cause her to choke to death or anything.”
“Your shirt’s all mussed up, you silly thing! If only you could see yourself.”
Harry looked down in surprise at his mis-buttoned shirt and smirked. “I suppose I should fix that before I go anywhere.”
“Don't you dare," she grabbed his wrists playfully. "There'll probably be reporters. You'll start a trend.”
Harry laughed and shook his head. “I love you, Ginny. I love you so much.”
“I love you, too,” Ginny felt such a wild surge of joy at his words; she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
He squeezed her hand, then prepared to Disapparate.
Ollie ran past again, this time stopping short when he saw the wand in Harry’s hand. “NO UNCLE, DON’T GO!”
Harry kneeled down as Ollie dashed towards him, wrapping his arms tightly around his favorite uncle’s leg.
“I want play with you!” Ollie announced stubbornly.
“Now, Ollie, you must ask your friends nicely...” Ginny interrupted.
“Uncle, can you play pweeze?”
Harry ruffled Ollie’s hair. “I have to go, but we could play tomorrow instead. We could play all day long and give your poor old mum a break!”
“Watch who you’re calling old, Potter,” Ginny muttered under her breath. Harry smirked.
“Mommy, can I?” Ollie asked, excitement lighting his face.
“You may,” Ginny said, smiling down at them both. “As long as you promise to be a good boy for Uncle.”
“I’m gonna!” Ollie yelled, hugging his mom’s leg. “I love you, Mommy.”
“I love you too, darling.”
“BYE UNCLE!” Ollie was already running away towards the family room again, waving his arms gleefully.
“You have no idea what you’re in for tomorrow,” Ginny said to him, smiling smugly.
“Oh really?” Harry cocked an eyebrow. “Well, you have no idea what you’re in for tonight.”
Ginny laughed, moving to kiss him, but he pulled away, barely letting her lips brush against his. “Save that one for later,” he said cheekily.
Ginny pretended to stuff the kiss into the pocket of her robe. Harry grinned lovingly, and squeezed her hand before he Disapparated.
As soon as he was gone, Ginny shrieked and danced in a little circle all by herself in the middle of the kitchen. Harry was back! He was back, and he still loved her as much as she loved him - time and circumstance hadn’t changed anything.
She skipped gleefully into the family room where Tonks waited. Gemma and Ollie were crawling around on all fours, meowing loudly.
“They’re kittens now?”
“I think so,” Tonks replied, shrugging. “They’re plenty distracted, anyhow. Sit your bum down here and talk to me for a minute.”
Ginny sank down onto the couch.
“So you two obviously... you know. How was it?”
Ginny buried her head in her hands and groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re asking for details!”
“‘Course I am, but you’re going to play the shy innocent, aren’t you?” Tonks whinged.
Ginny straightened her robe and sat up primly, folding her hands neatly in her lap. “Well, if you must know, we had a perfectly lovely time yesterday evening. We chatted, made a spot of tea. We talked mostly of the weather - it’s abnormally warm for September.”
“Oh, that sounds quite nice,” Tonks replied, tongue in cheek. “And the tea? It was hot?”
“Absolutely scalding hot,” Ginny replied, batting her eyelashes. "The hottest tea I've ever had."
“Is that right? And how many... uh, cups of tea did you two have before bed?”
“Just two - but that's only because the second cup took all night to finish.” Ginny said, trying desperately not to laugh.
“Ginny Weasley, you scarlet woman!” Tonks crowed, poking Ginny in the ribs.
Ginny squirmed away, giggling. “Oh shush! I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you this, but I absolutely have to!”
“You’d better,” Tonks narrowed her eyelids.
“Tonks, he's finally remembered!” she shrieked giddily.
Tonks looked at her blankly. “Remembered what?”
“Everything, you goose! Harry’s back! He knows who he is again!"
"WHAT! How?"
"He recalled it all yesterday afternoon, I guess, one big flash-flood of memories returning. I didn’t find out until a few minutes before you arrived-”
“Ginny!” Tonks squealed, half tackling her friend. “I’m so happy for you. What does this mean? I mean, what are you two going to do now?”
“Something? Everything? I have no bloody idea.” Ginny laughed.
“Well, if you want time alone with him, I’m your full-time babysitter, twenty-four seven.”
Ginny laughed. “Okay, I’ll just drop Ollie off at the MLES while you’re interrogating some accused Death Eater. He'll file the paperwork for you-”
“No, you silly thing! I’m off work for awhile.”
“Why? What's happened?”
“That’s why I wanted to talk with you this morning. Gemma’s getting a little brother or sister in about seven months!”
“WHAT?!” Ginny leapt at her friend, hugging her tightly. “Oh Merlin, I'm thrilled for you! When did you find out?”
“We just did the charm this morning! You’re the first to know besides Moony.”
“I never even knew you two were trying!”
“We weren’t, actually,” Tonks shrugged. “If we’d planned it, we would have waited another year, until Gemma was less of a handful, maybe we’d have saved something for a bigger house...”
Ginny’s skin suddenly went cold. Had she... had they done the contraceptive spell the first time? She madly rewound the night in her brain. She’d definitely cast it the second time, she was absolutely certain, and again this morning, but things had happened so quickly when he'd appeared in her room, and it had been two years since she’d had to think about things like that. What if she’d forgotten? She couldn't have been that careless... Could she?
“... but we’re really excited, nonetheless. Remus wants a big family, and I’ll admit, after Gemma, that idea is slowly winning me over - Merlin, Gin, what’s wrong? You look like a ghost!”
Ginny told her friend her suspicions.
“Accio Ginny’s wand!” Tonks said, looking at her friend worriedly. Ginny had tucked her legs up beneath her, feeling ill. Ginny wand whizzed from the bedroom into Tonks’ hand.
“Priori Incantatem,” Tonks whispered, holding her own wand to the tip of Ginny’s. She watched as the glowing pink shape of the contraceptive spell she had cast this morning floated gently above them.
“Deletrius,” Tonks said, and the pink cloud disappeared.
Ginny watched as another identical pink shape emerged from the wand after a few seconds.
“Phew! You’re okay. Finite Incantatem!”
“No, I’m not,” Ginny said nervously. “One of them is from this morning. Try again.”
Ginny held her breath as Tonks performed Priori Incantatem again. She watched impatiently as the two pink orbs slowly reappeared. But the third cloudy shape that emerged from the wand was unlike the other pink shapes — an indistinct purple blob. Ginny's heart jumped in her chest.
“That’s Apparition, isn’t it?”
Tonks nodded worriedly, deleting the cloudy shape from the air.
“Oh bloody hell.” Ginny felt like she was having a heart attack. “I think I might pass out.”
“I’m sure it’ll be okay, Ginny-”
Ginny swallowed heavily. “How long before the maternity charm works?”
“Twenty-four hours is the minimum, I think.” Tonks was squeezing her hand.
“Oh Merlin,” Ginny groaned flopping against her friend's shoulder. “How am I supposed to get through this day?”
“I’ll be here if you need me to be, Gin.”
“Mommy!” Ollie raced into the room and jumped on her lap, Gemma toddling behind. “Can we play?”
“Maybe in a little while, Ollie” Ginny replied, her head spinning. “Mommy’s going to talk with Auntie Tonks. Later, we can go to Grandpa Wood’s house.”
“Yay!” He slid off her lap and ran towards his toy box. Gemma climbed into her mother’s lap, her thumb in her mouth.
Ginny stood up, beginning to pace back and forth in front of the couch.
“Maybe this is a good thing,” Ginny began, thinking aloud. “I mean, I do want a big family...”
“Right...”
“But how do I know if Harry wants a family? I mean, we talked about it once years ago, when we were at Hogwarts, and he liked the idea of having children. But we were young and naive then. And a lot of things have changed since - I mean a lot of things and maybe that’s not true anymore.”
“But he really likes Ollie,” Tonks cut in.
“He does,” Ginny replied simply, wringing her hands.
“And there might be nothing to worry about. I mean, what are the odds?”
“The odds mean nothing, Tonks. I’m a Weasley, for Merlin’s sake. Look at the lot of us - Mum and Dad definitely didn’t plan on that.”
Tonks chewed her nail, her brow furrowed. “He’s coming by tonight, yeah?”
Ginny nodded worriedly. “At nine.”
“When’s the twenty-four hour mark?”
“Midnight, maybe?”
“Are you going to tell him about it when he gets here?”
“I don’t know,” Ginny replied miserably, dragging her hands through her hair. “I probably should right away. I mean, I can’t just wander into the loo at midnight, and then come back out and announce suddenly that I’m preggers.”
“We’ll figure it out, Ginny.” Tonks said, hugging her friend. “I’m going to make you some tea and toast. Everything always looks better once you’ve had breakfast.”
Chapter 18: Chapter 17 - Blue
Author's Notes: All I can say post-DH is... wow. I can't believe it's over - I feel like the last bits of my extended childhood have now ended or something. Obviously, this fic is now officially AU, I guess (and there's a bit of fluff in here for y'all who didn't get the expected dose of H/G from the book!)
I also want to apologize for the delay in getting this chapter up. My job b*&ch-slapped me and locked me in my office for 13 hours a day for a couple of months straight. Thanks for sticking with me!
I want to say a CAPS LOCK THANK YOU to Cel. This chapter and the upcoming epilogue are dedicated to you, the world's best beta! Bearhugs!
At nine, Ginny was sitting at the kitchen table, drumming her nails against the table impatiently. She’d spent an hour getting ready, trying on outfit after outfit before becoming hopelessly frustrated. Why would it matter - as soon as she opened her mouth to tell him the news, Harry wouldn’t care if she was covered head to toe in diamonds.
Ginny couldn’t figure out how she felt. One minute, she was thrilled - Harry! Harry! He was the answer to everything, the most unexpected, the most beautiful truth of her heart. And he told her he still loved her, he wanted her.
But what if he didn’t? What if she was pregnant and the sudden reality of it, the reality of being a parent, was just too much for him? He’d already been through so much - he deserved a break more than anyone, a vacation from responsibility. She knew, if she was having a baby, he would be there. It was just him.
But if she felt that reluctance in the air around him, that questioning of what fate had handed him yet again, what would she do? She needed him to want to be a father, not to just accept it as yet another thing hewas obligated to do. Ginny felt the sudden urge to Apparate to her mother, to tell her everything, to ask her just what to say, what to do. Her mother would know.
And suddenly, it was as though Molly Weasley was standing there, her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. She could do this. No matter what, she’d be okay.
The knock came at three minutes past and Ginny headed to the door. She could feel her heart beating through her whole body, resounding in every step. She pulled the door open.
“Hey,” he said with a lazy grin, leaning against the doorframe. Suddenly, Ginny felt like she couldn’t breathe. He was really there. Harry Potter. He was absolutely gorgeous in the twilight, his hair rumpled and messy, and he was there to see her.
“Harry...” She let him pull her into his arms and kiss her.
“Mmm... I’ve been thinking about doing that all day long.”
“Me too,” she murmured with a grin, as he buried his head in her neck. She couldn’t imagine not having this to hold forever, the smell of his hair, the slightly wind-chapped hands now gliding down the side of her face, so gentle and soft, yet strong. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip before pulling away and looking at him searchingly.
“I need to talk to you about something,” they both blurted at the same time.
Shocked, they burst into laughter.
“You’d best go first,” Ginny said nervously. She knew her news would effectively end the lovely euphoria she felt in his presence, and she wanted that feeling to go on for as long as possible. She needed to cherish every last second.
“You sure?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, what I have to say isn’t really important, just something I was thinking about-”
“It’s okay, Harry. Really,” she nodded.
“It... Ginny, I’ve been thinking about you and Oliver,” he said, looking down as though embarrassed.
Ginny felt her heart go numb. He was going to break it off, he was going to let her down easily. She knew it. He couldn’t even meet her eyes.
“I know it’s wrong to be jealous about it, that it’s the past, but I suppose I am, a little-”
“It’s not wrong to be jealous,” Ginny replied, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. “It’s normal.”
“I know that you two were happy together. Really happy,” he said.
She noticed his eyes light upon the mantel as he spoke, and she knew what he was looking at. There was a photo, and she was laughing, holding her husband’s hand, standing on the front porch of their new house the day they moved in. Ginny knew he was looking at it because she herself had spent a good portion of that very afternoon staring at the very same photo. Her face was happy and bright as she looked up at Oliver and laughed, not a worry in the world. The reappearance of Harry in her life had no effect on her photographic self.
“Yes, we were happy,” Ginny replied quietly.
“I keep thinking about it... I think, What if his accident had never happened? What if he was still here with you, and I was here too? Which one of us would you choose? I can’t get it out of my head, honestly.”
Ginny stared at him, unable to answer.
“Oh Merlin, that... that was unfair of me,” Harry continued, looking extremely worried. He squeezed her hand, which had gone limp in his grasp. “I know that it’s a question you can’t answer. I don’t even want an answer. I just wanted to be honest, to tell you what I was thinking about - I wanted to tell you because I want you to know me. I want you to know me inside and out, because I love you, and I thought telling you this, telling you the things that are bothering me-”
“You,” Ginny blurted, knowing only as she the words finally crossed her lips that they were true.
Ginny squeezed her eyes shut and continued at a whisper. “I would have chosen you, Harry, somehow. I know, in the long run, it would have hurt Oliver more if I stayed with him, knowing that I loved you. My heart wouldn’t have been true; it could never be true if you were there, because I love you. If there’s one thing Oliver understood, it was love.”
Harry looked at her, his eyes unreadable. Ginny stared down at his feet in a haze of tears. And suddenly she was engulfed in his arms. He was holding her so tightly, Ginny thought her ribs might break.
She could hear his uneven breath in her hair, and when he pulled away, his cheeks were wet. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I shouldn’t have needed to hear that-”
“I needed to hear it, too.” She looked at the mantle, wondering if it was her imagination, or it something intangible had changed. The younger Ginny still held Ollie’s hand, still looked up at him smiling, but Ginny swore she saw there a certain wistfulness to her expression, an air of nostalgia, like the photo had become a happy memory rather than a sad reminder.
He squeezed her hand, searching her face. “And now it’s your turn...”
“Right...” Ginny replied, reality hitting her like a bag of blast-ended skrewts. “I... I.... uh, let’s just sit down. The kitchen.”
“Okay,” he replied, following her, his eyes a mixture of bemused worry and curiosity.
Ginny looked at him, once again drinking in the sight of him sitting at her kitchen table, alive and well. She sighed, smoothing her sweaty hands on her sides.
Just tell him, her mother’s voice echoed in her head. Just have out with it directly.
Ginny took a deep breath, and looked at him. As she began to speak her eyes slid off his face to stare out the window. She didn’t think she could handle seeing the worry or anger that would surely flicker across his face.
“Harry... We, uh, I didn’t do the protection charm last night. The first time, after we got back from the club.”
Harry was silent. She dared sneak a peek at him, but his face was completely impassive. He was staring at the table. Her eyes darted away.
“I’m... well, I’m a Weasley,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “You get the drift.”
He cleared his throat and looked at her with that oh-so-familiar penetrating gaze.
“You’re saying that you could be... uh, you know...”
He couldn’t even say it. Pregnant. Ginny felt as though a rock had settled in her chest where her heart was beating only seconds before.
“Pregnant,” she finished on his behalf, her mouth dry. “Yes. There’s a chance.”
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But there’s a charm to find out for sure...”
Ginny nodded. “It takes 24 hours before results will register. So, I guess I’ll try in a few hours...”
“Okay,” he said quietly, a firm sort of resolve entering his voice. She heard him get up from his chair, but still she dared not look at him - more tears threatening to roll down her cheeks.
“Ginny, we’re going to be okay.” His voice was close to her, unbearably tender.
“I don’t know... I mean, I hope so.”
He took her hands in his. “Please don’t look so scared.”
Ginny forced herself to look up at him, the determination wrought on his face. It was as though she’d forgotten how brave he was.
“I choose you,” he said, a funny crooked smile on his mouth. “It’s all going to be okay.”
Ginny laughed as he kissed her chastely on the lips.
She looked into his eyes searchingly. “You’re really not scared, Harry? Not even a little?”
Harry looked down at their joined hands for a long time before he answered. “Is it strange if I say I’m not?”
“Of course not...” she whispered.
“I’m a little shocked, maybe,” There was a long silence, Ginny could see him thinking, planning. “But no, not scared. This isn’t the worst thing that could happen to us, is it?”
Ginny shook her head, half in shock.
“I’d like to have a family someday. This seems a bit soon for us and all, but then again, maybe not. Who’s to say?”
Ginny nodded. Her heart felt like it was going to explode with emotion for the thousandth time that day.
“Are you scared?” he asked, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist.
“A little,” she admitted, nodding.
“What do you think our baby would look like?” Harry asked, tenderly tucking a strand of her hair behind her ears. “Do you think he’d have red hair?”
“I’m guessing he might,” Ginny replied softly, in complete disbelief that she was having this conversation.
“And he’d have big brown eyes, just like yours.”
“I’d want him to have green eyes like his father. Eyes that light up whenever he smiles.” Ginny felt the tears finally run down her cheeks.
Harry smiled softly, wiping the tears away with his finger. “Why are we talking as though we’re sure it’s a boy? What we have a girl?”
“You actually like this idea...” Ginny murmured.
“I could get used to it,” he replied, looking down at her, his eyes soft and serious.
“UNCLE!” Ollie crowed, running towards them in his pyjamas. Ginny stiffened, but resisted the urge to draw away from Harry. Her son stopped short about a foot away and looked up at them curiously, their arms snaked intimately around each other’s waists.
“Hi Ollie! You’re up pretty late,” Harry replied, grinning down at the little boy.
Ollie approached warily, tugging on his mom’s leg. “Up, pweeze.”
Ginny let Harry go and picked Ollie up, kissing him on the forehead. The little boy snuggled possessively against his mom, wrapping his arms tightly around her neck, and glaring at Harry from the corner of his eye.
“I think he’s a wee bit jealous,” Ginny mouthed. Harry nodded, moving away.
Ginny shook her head, reaching over to grab Harry’s hand, pulling him close again. She wrapped her free arm around Harry. How would Ollie react? Maybe this was a risky approach.
She looked down at her son and smiled comfortingly. “Look how we can all hug! Mummy, Ollie and Uncle. You try, Ollie.”
Ollie looked back up at her for a long moment before slowly, tentatively, reaching one of his little arms towards Harry.
“This is a nice big hug. Isn’t it?”
“It is,” Harry grinned at her, his voice quiet and serious. “One of the best hugs I’ve ever had.”
“Why didn’t we think of this before, huh Ollie?” she said, wrinkling her nose at her son.
“I like it,” Ollie said solemnly, nodding. He was still for another moment, looking from Ginny’s face, to Harry’s, to Ginny’s again before he squirmed a little bit towards Harry, and transfered himself fully into his arms. The smile on Harry’s face at that moment caught Ginny’s breath.
Harry leaned over slowly, and kissed Ginny's cheek, Ollie watching them curiously.
“Let’s put this little guy back to bed,” he whispered.
****
“Is he asleep?” Harry asked quietly, as Ginny tiptoed into the room, closing the bedroom door behind her.
“Yes, finally!” she replied, flopping down onto the bed beside him. “His grandpa feeds him his weight in chocolate every visit, no wonder he can’t sleep. All that sugar!”
She snuggled next to Harry and sighed contentedly as he pulled her closer and kissed her forehead.
“How are you doing?”
“Much better now that I’m here with you,” Ginny replied, tracing his jawline with her finger. The room was cool and comfortable; the window was open and a soft breeze blew in, making the curtains billow gently. Ginny slid her hand up Harry’s shirt, onto his warm skin, drawing circles on his stomach.
“This is what it’s like being a parent,” Ginny replied. “Ollie hates going to bed. It’s hard work most of the time.”
“I know,” he answered. “Things that are truly worth it are always hard work, aren’t they?”
Ginny nodded - her heart filling with love for him - Harry knew above all other people what hard work life could be.
“Despite the fact that you just heard my son cry for 45 minutes straight, you’re still excited about the possibility of a baby?” she asked.
He nodded. “I am. You’re an amazing mum, Ginny.”
“And you’re going to make an incredible father some day, Harry.”
“You really think so?”
“Absolutely.” She kissed him lingeringly on the mouth.
“The burning questions remains,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Are you excited about the baby?”
“I think I am now, a little bit,” she nodded seriously.
Harry smiled softly, twirling a long strand of her hair around his finger. “Do you want a boy or a girl?”
“I don’t mind either way.”
“I keep referring to him as thought it’s a boy,” Harry replied, gliding a hand across Ginny’s flat stomach. “After all, as you keep pointing out, you are a Weasley.”
Ginny laughed, staring up at the ceiling. “This is so surreal, you know?”
“How’s that?”
She looked over at him. “This conversation. This whole situation. Twenty four hours ago, I wasn’t sure that you were even you.”
He shrugged. “We’re making up for lost time, is all... and speaking of making up for lost time, if you keep touching me like that-”
“Like this?” Ginny asked innocently, raking her fingernails gently across the plane of his stomach again, just above his belt. She felt a thrill race through her as the muscles jumped beneath her hand.
“I warned you,” he laughed, grabbing her arms and flipping her onto her back, his mouth attacking her neck. She shrieked and giggled, pretending to fight him off, and then suddenly they both froze, remembering the toddler asleep down the hall. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut, fully expecting to hear the familiar cry of “Mummy, mummy,’ but there was no sound - Ollie was apparently still asleep.
“Thank Merlin we didn’t wake him,” Ginny whispered, reaching for her wand and casting a silencing charm on the room. They looked at each other and simultaneously burst into laughter.
“What time is it?” she asked, slinging her legs around Harry’s waist.
“11:30,” He looked at his wristwatch. “I can’t believe it. That late already?”
“We still have 30 minutes until the test,” Ginny purred, yanking at the hem of his shirt. “I know a few creative ways to make that time go by quicker.”
“Oh, but I do too...” he laughed as her lips claimed his neck. “I have a surprise for you first. Cover your eyes - no peeking!”
“I hope the surprise involves you with a lot fewer clothes on,” Ginny giggled as she covered her eyes.
“Well, I suppose it could,” Harry said, amusement coloring his voice. She grinned as a few seconds later, she heard the clink of his belt hitting the floor. He reached over and pulled her to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, and she heard him rustling around the room, muttering under his breath.
“Can I open my eyes yet?” she asked a moment later.
“One more minute,” His voice came from across the room by her window.
Ginny waited for what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a minute or two. Something smelled amazing, sweet and good. She squirmed in heady anticipation, hoping she’d open her eyes to a Harry with certain bits of his anatomy covered in whipped cream and chocolate. But that smell... it wasn’t food. Was it flowers? What in Merlin’s name was he doing? She tapped her feet impatiently on the floor, and heard his snort of laughter.
“Patience is a virtue,” he laughed.
“A very over-rated one. Are you done torturing me, Harry James Potter,” she demanded.
“I was hoping I could torture you long into the future, actually,” he replied mildly. “Open your eyes.”
Ginny opened her eyes. The room was filled with flowers, hundreds and hundreds of furiously bright blossoms covering every available surface, a few that he hadn’t found space for were even floating quietly in the corner. Rose petals, as soft as velvet, covered the bed around where she sat. Every flower Ginny had ever seen or heard of seemed to be there in some way shape or form - there were so many she didn’t know where to look. And in the midst of the wild splashes of color, down on one knee in front of her in bright white boxer shorts and nothing else, was Harry Potter.
Ginny’s mouth moved soundlessly as she looked around, taking in the scene. Finally, she found her voice again.
“How... how did you do this, Harry?”
“I hid the flowers outside earlier, and then, while your eyes were closed, I Accio-ed everything in through the window.”
Ginny slid down onto the floor in front of him, cupping his face in her hands. “You’re amazing.”
“Well, if we’re making up for four years of lost time, I probably owe you a lot of flowers, Ginny.”
“You don’t owe me anything, silly.”
“That’s not true,” he said, pulling his hand from behind his back. “I owe you everything.”
Ginny stared wordlessly at the bright blue sapphire ring.
“I wanted to ask you before we found out about the baby. I want you to know I’m not asking just to make an honest witch of you. I’m asking you because I love you. You are my whole world, my forever and always. Ginny Weasley, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
Ginny could only nod, overcome. There weren’t the right words. Yes didn’t seem big enough.
He slid the ring onto her finger. Both their hands were shaking a little.
“It’s perfect,” Ginny breathed, staring into the clear blue depths of the stone.
“I bought it a long time ago, during the war. I was going to ask you way back then, once Ron was better and our lives were back to normal.”
“I don’t think anything will ever be ‘normal’ where you’re concerned, Harry.” Ginny said, grinning.
“You don’t think we kiss the way normal people kiss?” Harry asked curiously, as she pressed against him, pushing him backwards onto a bed of black-eyed susans. He nibbled at her lower lip and Ginny’s entire body felt as though it was going to implode. She loved how sometimes, he kissed her the way Sean kissed her the first time, a slow steady burn; sometimes it was all Harry, a hot quick blaze. And sometimes, it was somewhere in between. But it was always absolutely perfect.
“If normal people kissed each other the way you kiss me, the whole world would be at a standstill,” Ginny laughed, pulling her shirt over his head. “No one would leave their bedrooms.”
****
Ginny lay halfway beneath Harry, the heady scent of crushed blossoms surrounding them both in a sleepy haze.
“Ginny, love?”
“Hmmm...”
He rolled over. “Wake up. It’s 6:00.”
Ginny looked at the alarm clock, rubbing her eyes in disbelief. “6 am? You mean we fell asleep?”
“We were tired,” he said simply, kissing her cheek. Ginny sat up, shivering a little - the room had grown cold through the night. She pulled the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders, reaching up to grab the book on the night table. The title emblazoned in bright pink across the front read “Handy Household Charms for the Well-Prepared Witch.” Ginny found the title amusing - many of the charms within were about trying to remedy issues of major disorganization and big time screw-ups - certainly spells a “well-prepared witch” would never need. She flipped it open to the page that she’d marked earlier that afternoon - the charm used to determine pregnancy.
“The wand movement looks simple...” Ginny muttered. They both watched the moving diagram of a witch swishing her wand in a clockwise circle, before touching it gently to her lower abdomen.
“The incantation is Utrum Maternus, the emphasis placed on the last two syllables,” she said, touching the words on the page with her wand. A strange disembodied voice floated up from the book, to pronounce the words for them. “It says if I’m pregnant, the wand will produce an unmistakable blue glow, if I’m not pregnant, the light will be white.”
Ginny slid the book off her lap, and looked at Harry, her wand grasped tightly in her hand. They stared at each other for a long time, and Harry nodded encouragingly.
“I... I can’t do it, Harry” she said, lowering the wand. “I’m too nervous. Do you think you could?”
“Will it work if I do it?”
Ginny nodded. “With Ollie, the team medic did the charm.”
“Okay,” Harry replied, kissing her forehead. “Just relax.”
Ginny squeezed her eyes shut, trying to take a deep breath.
“Ready?”
She nodded, clenching her hands into fists.
Harry spoke quietly. “Utrum Maternus.”
Ginny felt the wand tip graze her skin, but she kept her eyes shut. “Harry, what color is it?” she whispered.
“Just a second, Gin - I’m not sure I did that right. Let me try again.”
Ginny nodded, forcing herself to open her eyes this time.
“Utrum Maternus,” he repeated.
Ginny looked down at the white light glowing gently at the tip of Harry’s wand.
They looked at each other in silence for a moment. Ginny expected to feel a flood of relief - she wasn’t pregnant. It was all a false alarm.
But strangely, she didn’t feel consoled.
Harry closed the book, putting his wand down.
“Are you okay, Gin?”
“Yeah, Are you?”
He nodded thoughtfully, laying back down and pulling her into his arms.
“I... I think I might have wanted the light to be blue after all,” she whispered.
“I know,” he replied quietly. “Me too. That’s why I checked twice - I thought maybe I’d messed up the first one.”
The cool light of dawn bathed their bodies, and Ginny smiled as the light caught the sapphire sparkling on her finger.
“Maybe this is for the best. After all, we’ve got the rest of our lives,” she whispered.
“We sure do.”
Chapter 19: Chapter 18: Epilogue
Author's Notes: So... it finally comes to an end. I had a great time writing this, and now that DH is done, I feel like this is an end of an era, and I have to grow up now or something.. haha! I do have some ideas for other H/G fics, and I have been plugging away at a couple of plot bunnies... but I must admit no Tonks = one very sad writer. *sigh*
Thanks to all of you who left reviews - I read each one, even though sometimes I didn't have time to reply to each reviewer! Thanks also for your patience with these last 2 chapters.
I want to send out GIANT FLUFFY GRAWP-SIZED HUGS to my awesome beta, Cel (AKA cwarbeck) who is not only a fantastic beta, but also the author of some of the very best H/G stories out there! Three cheers and cold butterbeers! I appreciate your input so much, Cel!
Thanks also to Ricky, Dante, Mikey, and Em who provide me with inspiration. laughter, malt liquor, and high-fives - what more could a girl want!?!
Anyhow, enough blathering - hope you enjoy!
“Time to wake up, Mummy,” Ollie crowed, bouncing onto his parents’ bed.
Ginny opened her eyes and smiled at the morning sun filling the bedroom with the warmth. Her son was hugging her gently, careful of her burgeoning belly.
“Good morning, Ollie,” she said, kissing the little boy on the cheek. “Where’s Daddy?”
“Right here!” Harry grinned at her from the doorway. He carried a tray laden with orange juice and pancakes.
“Happy Birthday, Mummy!” Ollie yelled. “I made you pancakes!”
“All by yourself?”
“Daddy helped, a little.”
Ginny laughed, ruffling her son’s hair. “Well, thank you both. What would I do without you two?”
“What would we do without you?” Harry said, setting the breakfast tray on the night table, and leaning over to kiss his wife. “Today’s the anniversary of another special day, too.”
“How could I forget? Fifteen years ago today, I chipped my front tooth while tasting one of the first batch of canary cremes ever made, a lovely birthday gift from Fred and George,” Ginny joked. “I get all nostalgic and misty-eyed just thinking about it.”
“A memorable event, no doubt,” Harry laughed wryly, as he helped Ollie pile pancakes onto a plate for his mum.
“Oh, and there’s last year too,” Ginny added as an afterthought, as Harry helped her into a sitting position.
“What happened last year?” Harry replied nonchalantly, playing along. Both of them knew the significance of that day, of course. August 11 marked the one-year anniversary of the day Ginny found Harry in Muggle London.
“The first year I never got any cake,” Ginny sniffled, balancing the plate Ollie handed her on her swollen belly. Harry laughed.
“But I can make you a cake, Mummy!” Ollie piped up, his mouth half full of pancake.
“Can you really? What flavor will it be?”
“Chocolate with chocolate sprinkles! With a picture of a hippogriff on it!”
“That sounds delicious,” Ginny said, cutting into her first pancake, the tray balanced precariously on her stomach. “I can’t wait to try it.”
“After breakfast, you should show Mummy that nice picture you drew this morning of yourself holding the baby,” Harry said to Ollie. “I’m sure she’d really like to see it.”
“Harry?” Ginny interrupted, looking at Ollie from the corner of her eye whilst keeping her voice especially bright and cheerful.
“Gin?”
“Could you please stick your head in the fire and call Hermione? Maybe my mum, too.”
Harry leapt to his feet, upsetting orange juice on the floor, his face suddenly devoid of colour.
“It’s happening?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure my water just broke,” Ginny replied calmly. “But there’s no rush-”
“Oh Merlin,” Harry ran to the door and skidded halfway down the stairs, before turning back around and rushing back into the room to her bedside, almost slipping in the spilled juice. “Wait!” he said breathlessly. “Maybe it’s a false alarm. Isn’t it two weeks too early?”
“Weasley babies always come early,” she replied. “Ollie was almost a month premature. There’s nothing to be worried about.”
"You're sure?"
Ginny nodded, squeezing Harry's fingers.
“I love you, Ginny,” he said excitedly, pressing a kiss on her mouth.
“I love you too,” she called after him as he rushed headlong out of the room again.
Ollie looked flabbergasted, his mouth full of pancake. “Mummy, what’s wrong with Daddy?”
“Daddy’s excited because it’s time for the baby to come.”
“Now?” Ollie stared in amazement at the lump of her belly under the blanket as though he expected his younger brother or sister to instantly appear in front of him.
“Well, maybe later today,” Ginny explained, waving her wand to clean up the spilled juice and Banishing the breakfast dishes to the kitchen. She put her wand back on the nightstand, and winced as a contraction began to ripple across her stomach. She’d had false contractions all week - this felt much the same. Ginny took a deep breath. She could do this.
“Mummy, are you hurt?” Ollie asked, worry wrinkling his little brow.
“It hurts a little bit, but Mummy will be okay,” Ginny breathed after a moment.
Ollie’s lip quivered and a tear leaked out of his eye.
Ginny heard Harry thundering back up the stairs, almost simultaneously as a loud POP of Apparition outside her bedroom door. Harry almost collided with Molly Weasley in the doorway to the bedroom. But when he saw the determined look on his mother-in-law’s face, Harry stepped aside and let her through first.
“How far apart are the contractions, Ginny dear?” Her mum rushed over to her bed, where Ginny was pulling herself into a sitting position, Ollie clinging to her arm, now crying in full force.
“My water's just broke. I’ve only just had one contraction. It scares Ollie to see me in pain, Mum. Is Dad coming - maybe he can watch him for awhile...”
“He’s on his way any second - and you’ve called Hermione?”
“I did,” Harry said, sitting down beside his wife, and squeezing her hand. “Maybe you should lay back down, Ginny.”
“I feel like getting up and walking around. Isn’t that supposed to help things go faster, Mum?”
“It is-”
“Grandma, Mummy’s hurt!” Ollie howled, hurling himself into his grandmother’s arms.
“Shhh, angel,” Molly pulled the little boy into a tight hug. “Your Mummy will be okay - next time you see her, you’ll have a new baby brother to play with!”
Ollie shook his head, and sobbed violently into the front of Molly’s dress.
“Let’s get you some juice from the kitchen. We can draw pictures until your grandfather gets here.” Molly smoothed his hair and carried him out of the room and down the stairs as Harry helped Ginny to her feet.
“Poor Ollie,” she said, looking after her son forlornly. “He’s so scared, and there’s nothing I can do.”
“He’ll be okay, Gin,” Harry said reassuringly.
Ginny nodded.
“Do you really want to walk around a bit?”
Ginny nodded. Harry helped her to her feet, and into her dressing robe, and guided her down the hallway.
“Does it hurt?” he whispered, his eyes wild with worry.
“Not right now,” Ginny said, turning to him and pressing a kiss on his cheek. “I don’t want you to worry, love. This is a perfectly natural process.”
“A perfectly bloody scary process, you mean.”
“Oh Merlin, here it comes.”
“What-”
Ginny moaned in pain as the contraction tore at her, her knees almost giving way underneath her. She tried to take a deep breath, to push the pain to the back of her head. She concentrated on squeezing Harry’s hand, and just when she thought the wave would overtake her entirely, it started to slowly recede.
“Bloody hell, Gin,” Harry’s face was pale and scared.
“I want to lie down again, I think,” she said, releasing her death grip on his hand. Her legs were shaking as he guided her back to their room.
****
“What time is it,” Tonks asked blearily, pulling her head off Remus’ shoulder and looking around the crowded room. The entire Weasley family was parked in Harry and Ginny’s living room, in various states of boredom and fatigue. They’d been there since the previous afternoon.
“Almost 10:00AM now,” Ron replied, glancing at his watch.
“Ginny must be so tired,” Tonks said, peeking into the basinette where her 6 month- old son was napping peacefully. “I thought 7 hours of labor was unbearable. It’s, what... going on twenty five hours now?”
“Something like that,” Fred replied, adding a card to the tower the twins were building out of Exploding Snap cards. “All I know is that Ginny better get on with it before tea-time-”
“We have a double date tonight.” George continued, waggling his eyebrows.
“Mum was only in labor with those gits for three hours,” Charlie said, flicking a crisp at the back of George’s head. “And there were 2 of them.”
“They would have told us if there was any trouble, don’t you think?”
As though in reply, the door at the top of the stairs swung open, revealing a very bedraggled Molly and Hermione.
“What’s the update?” Tonks asked worriedly.
“Both mother and daughter are healthy, happy and absolutely perfect,” Hermione reported.
“A girl?”
Everyone looked shocked. Ginny hadn’t done a gender charm - she and Harry and wanted a surprise.
“You hear that, Ronniekins? You owe me ten galleons,” Fred crowed, punching Ron in the ribs.
“Fred, please go to the Burrow and fetch your father and Ollie,” Molly said curtly.
“What? Why me?” he whinged.
“Because your mother said so!” Molly scolded.
George snickered as Fred rolled his eyes and Dissapparated.
“So can we see her now?” Ron asked eagerly.
“Since when are you so excited about babies, little brother?” Bill queried, raising an eyebrow. Ron and Hermione both blushed.
“We should give the new Mummy and Daddy a few minutes,” Molly said, glancing up the stairs. “Let’s all have a bite to eat first, shall we?”
“She’s perfect,” Ginny breathed tiredly, staring into her daughter’s pink wrinkled face.
“More than perfect,” Harry lay beside his wife in the bed, the tiny black-haired baby cradled gingerly in his arms.
“What are we going to name her?”
“I can’t even think,” Harry replied somewhat hoarsely, looking at his wife. “It’s like my heart is too full, and my brain won’t work.”
Ginny smiled tiredly up at her husband. “Isn’t it the best feeling in the world?”
Harry just nodded, staring at the child in his arms with unabashed wonder.
“Look at how beautiful she is, Ginny,” he said hoarsely. “Look at her mouth, the little white crescents of her fingernails. Have you ever seen such a beautiful baby?”
“She’ll get stronger and more beautiful every single day,” Ginny said, snuggling against Harry. “Just wait until she smiles at you, Daddy.”
“I can’t wait,” Harry whispered, wiping a tear off his cheek, and leaning over to kiss his wife.
“Mummy?” Ollie pushed his way through the door, running to the side of the bed. “Mummy, you okay?”
“I’m fine, Ollie,” Ginny replied, patting the bed. “Come see the new baby.”
Ollie climbed excitedly onto the bed, leaning against his father’s leg and staring curiously into the face of his baby sister.
“That’s your sister,” Harry said, his voice wavering with emotion.
“Hi, little baby,” Ollie whispered, reaching out to touch the baby with a gentle hand. “You’re so pretty.”
“What should we name her, big brother?” Ginny asked.
“A pretty flower.” Ollie replied seriously.
“How about Lily?” Ginny added quietly, looking up at Harry. There were tears brimming in his eyes.
“Is that okay, love?” she asked.
He nodded, too overcome to speak. Ginny kissed away the tear that slid slowly down his cheek.
“Welcome to the world, Lily Potter,” he whispered.