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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:Harry/Ginny, Other Genres: Angst, Drama, Romance Warnings: Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Negative Alcohol Use Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 713 Summary: Can love survive, no matter what someone does to destroy it? Hitcount: Story Total: 154216; Chapter Total: 6805 Awards: View Trophy Room |
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Author’s Notes: Thank you to a wonderful group of betas who helped make this chapter so cohesive. There’s a lot to get through in here, so I’ll just say that the lyrics in this chapter do not belong to me. They are from The Rocky Horror Picture Show and belong to Richard O’Brien. Please read, rejoice, and review! Pumpkins, Proposals, and a Particular Part of the Male Anatomy C haos would be swirling all around her soon. There was no doubt of that. Ginny had seen enough Firsts of September to know that no matter how tranquil and peaceful the morning started, that no matter how organized they were from the night before or how many people were coming by to help get them into London on time, come eight o’clock, everything would fall to pieces around them. Such was life. The boys’ school trunks were waiting by the front door, neatly stacked and filled to the brim with robes, books, and little mementos from home; Nero, the snow owl that had been their eleventh birthday present, was (for once) patiently chirping in his cage; and there was a small sack of treats for the train ride. Everything was in perfect order, just waiting for her two black-haired terrors to accidentally destroy it in their haste to get to King’s Cross Station. Ginny shook her head with a smile as she knocked on her daughter’s door. Why would time never slow down? She could so clearly remember the feel of Finnick and Gavin tucked into the crook of each arm, how utterly different it had been nursing them both at the same time; and now, what seemed like only a few days later, she was putting her twins, her babies, on the train for Hogwarts. Perhaps Luna was right. Maybe someone should try to invent a cage for time. “Lamb?” she called quietly. “Are you awake yet?” “No,” a muffled voice replied after a moment. Ginny rolled her eyes and opened the door, turning on the lamp as she did. Posters of the popular female Wizarding musical duo, Maleficent on Sundays, smiled and winked back at her from the soft teal walls. Unlike the boys’ room, this one’s floor was mercifully clear of clothes and debris; the biggest mess was a small collection of carefully tended purple flowers on both window sills. She walked over to the bed and moved the various Charms textbooks to the night table before sitting gently near the lump beneath the bedcovers that was her fourteen year-old daughter. Ginny leaned forward and pressed a kiss to where she imagined the girl’s head to be. “Iris Molly Potter,” she said, “it’s almost seven and everyone will be here soon. You told me last night you wanted to make a big breakfast for the whole family. Time to get up.” “Changed my mind,” Iris retorted through the blankets. “You lot can manage on your own for the day.” “Lamb…” “Actually, I’d love to see that, the boys making their own meal for a change. Do you think Gavin even knows how to crack an egg? Or that Icky-Finnicky could get cereal into a bowl all by himself?” Ginny peeled back the covers to reveal her daughter’s head of lustrous red hair. Iris kept her back to Ginny as her mother gently smoothed the locks down. “I promise I won’t tell anyone how much you’ll miss them both,” Ginny told the girl, “if you come downstairs and help me see them off properly.” Iris didn’t move. She simply snuggled back deeper into her mother’s touch. “It’s not that I’ll miss them all that much.” “Of course.” “I mean, sure they can be fun at times. Like when Finn found Dad’s wand and managed to Transfigure all his toy blocks into mice.” “Yes, it was real fun for you kids. You weren’t the ones finding mouse droppings all over the house for the next six months.” “That was nothing compared to their sixth birthday party,” Iris laughed softly. “Have you ever seen a birthday cake do…do that?” “No. I’ve also never seen your Uncle Ron that terrified of food. The man still won’t put frosting on anything to this day.” Iris’s laughter petered out and she sighed, fingering a small chip of paint of the wall in front of her. “What about when Gavin was learning how to ride a real broom? Remember how scared he was to get on at first, even though he carried the stupid thing with him everywhere he went?” “What I remember,” Ginny said, “is that the only way we could get him on it was to have his big sister on the broom holding him tight because he knew that nothing bad would happen to him with Lamb there to take care of him.” She pretended not to notice the tiny hitch in her daughter’s breath. “I just…I don’t like it when things change,” the girl admitted. “Everything is wonderful now and we’re all so happy. Why does it have to ever be anything other than that?” “That’s what life is, sweetheart. It changes and we change along with it. I’m not the same person I was when you were born and that’s good because if I was, I wouldn’t be as happy as I am here today, with you and your brothers and your dad.” Ginny pressed a small kiss into her daughter’s hair, the hair Iris had inherited from her. “We grow older and wiser and with luck, that wisdom brings us more happiness tomorrow than we had yesterday.” The two women sat in comfortable silence, the only sound the rhythmic stroking of Iris’s hair through Ginny’s fingertips until the girl spoke again. “Can I ask you something?” “Certainly.” “Were you and Dad…disappointed that I stayed here at home?” Iris asked the wall. “That I didn’t want to go to Hogwarts?” “Lamb, why would you ever think that?” “Ever since the twins’ letters came in June, you and Dad have both been telling them how wonderful school was and all the fun they’d have there and all the adventures you had there. I mean, that’s where Dad fell in love with you-” “Yes, and he took his sweet time doing it, thank you very much. Iris didn’t giggle at the old joke like she normally did. “There’s not any part of you that wishes I had been sorted into Gryffindor or was studying creatures with Hagrid?” “First of all,” Ginny began, “I would never want anyone to study creatures with Hagrid. He’s a dear, dear man to me and your father, but some of his lessons can be a bit…scarring and I don’t just mean psychologically. And as for being sorted into Gryffindor, no, I would not want that at all.” “Why not?” “Because the Iris Potter I love more than my own life would never have wanted to go off to study all sorts of different subjects at a school hundreds of miles away from home. If she had, she would be someone else entirely. You’re a great deal like your Aunt Nell in that way. You knew, just like she did, what your purpose in life was and that was healing. Sophie says that you are a brilliant student with an amazing gift and you will be a great service to Hastom or anywhere else in the world when you finally get your license.” “What about you, Mum? What’s your purpose?” “You. You and the rest of our entire barmy family. I would not trade a single second I have spent with any of you for all the Galleons in Gringotts. I love you so much, Lamb.” “I love you too, Mum.” Iris turned over and smiled up at Ginny, the joy spreading from her lips all the way up to her eyes. Her father’s eyes–Harry’s eyes–shining with love towards Ginny. How was that possible? Unconsciously, Ginny sucked in a breath and leaned away from her daughter as she took in the perfect almond shape and the precise shade of green that Lily Potter had given her son so many years ago. Now it seemed that Harry had kept that trait alive and well as it blinked up at her sleepily against the light. But how could he have…? Iris wasn’t…This made no… What was happening? A knock on the door startled her and the voice on the other side absolutely shattered her. “Mum? Iris?” the deep voice of a grown man called out to them. “Sophie and I are here with the kids. Dad says that breakfast isn’t ready yet. You want to get on with that, Lamb? You know what your darling nieces and nephews are like when they haven’t got a plate full of bangers in front of them first thing in the morning.” Iris ignored her mother’s incapacitating shock to climb out of bed, huffing to herself as she walked into her adjoining bathroom. “Fine, I’m coming. Heaven forbid you actually feed your own children, James.” Ginny’s breath released and lodged itself in between her heart and her throat. James? Hearing footsteps echoing away down the hallway, Ginny shot off the bed and wrenched the bedroom door open, searching. All she could see down the hall near the stairs was a tall man with a head of dark red hair, just like Ginny, and as he turned to face her… ****** Gasping, Ginny sat straight up in bed. Her hands immediately went to her belly as the adrenaline coursed through her. She was terrified, down to the nails of her toes, and she had no idea why. Taking a calming breath, she tried to trace through the hazy vestiges of her subconscious to find the cause of such fear, only to find nothing. No images or sounds to go on. Just a sense that something deeply traumatic had disturbed her peaceful sleep. It was a dream, she thought to herself as the baby squirmed beneath her skin. Whatever it was, it was nothing more than a dream. We’re both fine, right sweetheart? A strong kick seemed to be the baby telling her, “Right, Mummy. We’re great.” That’s my girl. Standing on wobbly legs, Ginny got dressed for the day, still trying to decipher what it was exactly that was troubling her so about her dream. She just couldn’t put a finger on it. Maybe it had something to do with her family. After all, last night with Ron at Nell’s birthday party had been…emotional, to say the least. It wouldn’t surprise her at all if there was some residual backlash from it that had crept into her dreams. On the other hand, they had ended things in such a good place, with Ron telling Ginny how good it was to see her and Harry…together. Not that they were together, in the sense her brother saw them in. She and Harry just lived in the same house together, ate most of their meals together, reveled in the every kick and twitch from the baby together, and spent a good portion of the day together. Really, why would Ron ever think that- Because those are probably the things that he does with Hermione, save for the baby. Same with Bart and Nell, Bill and Fleur, Mum and Dad, and a host of other couples. When something looks like a Kneazle, sounds like a Kneazle, and acts like a Kneazle, chances are that it’s a Kn- “Stop it,” Ginny commanded herself before her thoughts could take her down a path she simply didn’t have the energy for this morning. Not with the festival to attend today. Bart and Nell had a full day of activities planned for her, Ron, and Hermione that left no room for pondering the ever-complicating state of her relationship with Harry. Well, complicated to them. Everyone else in their lives seemed to think it was fairly straightforward. Nosy meddlers. Feeling herself starting to slide down into a bit of a funk, she snapped out of it by sliding her feet into a pair of comfortable moccasins, smiling a little as she felt the effects of the magical support that Harry had somehow managed to add to her shoes at some point in the night. She supposed if he really did want to take care of her and keep her numerous pregnancy complaints to a minimum, who was she to stop him? Sweet man and crafty too, seeing as he waited until she was already asleep before modifying her shoes, knowing he could simply circumvent her arguments by waiting until she was unconscious. She wondered how long he had stayed in the room with her, if he had lingered for a moment or two to watch her sleep. He had told her once when they were…well, many years ago that watching her sleep was one of the things that brought him the most peace. Though really, how much peace could one attain when they were looking at an ex-girlfriend, carrying the child of another- “Ouch!” Ginny cried out. The baby jabbed her swiftly in the gut, almost making her double over with the intensity of the sharpness from the little feet or fists pounding into her. It died down as quickly as it began, but Ginny sat perfectly still on her bed for a few moments, listening intently to see if her body was trying to tell her something was wrong. There was nothing, no pain and no more kicking. What was it that riled you up so much, sweetheart? Ginny thought as she used the end table to stand up. Holding her stomach with one hand, she made her way down the stairs. She must be excited about the festival, that’s all. A gaggle of happy voices greeted her from the kitchen. Harry and their four friends were sitting together at the table. Such an adjustment–a joyful one–to make, seeing Ron and Hermione in Hastom; her old life and new life merging together more seamlessly than Ginny could have ever hoped. So strange. She wasn’t used to things being so simple in her life. It didn’t feel all that bad, to be honest. “Morning,” she said to the group from the doorway. For the first time, she noticed the time on the kitchen clock and grimaced. “Why on Earth did you let me sleep so late?” “Healer’s orders,” Nell replied while she buttered a slice of toast. “You had quite a night and you needed rest. Besides, nothing starts at the festival until midday so you haven’t missed a thing. Just my husband caressing a pumpkin all morning.” Ginny smirked, but when she sat down next to Bart she found he was, indeed, caressing a large orange pumpkin in his lap. “Why are you…?” she asked him, a little hesitant to hear his answer. “Jack-o’-lantern contest,” he explained, wiping a spot of debris off of the stem. “It’s on the last day of the festival and I’ve claimed victory three years running. I picked out Betty here this morning at the market and I’m not letting her out of my sight from now until then.” “You’re joking, right?” Harry put a plate of fresh blueberry pancakes in front of her, covering the stack with a healthy amount of syrup. “He’s not. That thing will be attached to his side until he’s up on stage presenting it to the judges.” “Not to mention that he’s going to spend the next five days giving that damn thing more love and attention than he will to me.” “Well, why shouldn’t I?” Bart asked his wife, popping a few grapes in his mouth. “Betty here won’t judge me or condescend to me or make me feel like a freak for having a map of Middle Earth hanging up in my office. All Betty will do is offer me herself, wholly and fully, working together with me to achieve a common goal: victory.” “Good for her then,” Nell replied sweetly. “Just make sure whatever holes you crave into her are big enough so she can help you achieve something else I will not be assisting you with at all for the next five days.” “Can’t-Can’t you just do a charm to protect it and keep it fresh?” Hermione asked in a rush. “No can do. Not allowed to use magic to win this contest, or any other in the festival unless it’s needed. Like levitating apples for distance or Transfiguration to compete in the individual three-legged race. Everything has to be done by hand, from preservation to sculpting. Helps keep everyone honest. Not to mention, I trust no one to refrain from using sabotage to usurp my crown from me.” “For the last time,” said an exasperated Nell. “Mrs. Velmen was not trying to knock the bloody pumpkin out of your hand when she bumped into you last year.” “Then why did she grip onto the arm holding my creation with such a death vice if she wasn’t trying to jar something loose?” “Maybe because she’s seventy-six years old and didn’t want to break her hip by falling onto the ground?” “Or,” Bart countered with a maniacal gleam in his eye, “she was doing her best to make sure her great-grandson had no competition. “That’s just in-” “Regardless, Betty will be with me at all times for the foreseeable future. Get used to it, people.” “I married a lunatic,” Nell felt obligated to say. “Didn’t have a wand to your throat when we signed the papers, Babe,” Bart reminded her. “You went into this marriage with full knowledge of my crazy. Can’t try to play the sympathy card now.” “It’s not that weird,” Ron told Nell. “Hermione refuses to let go of food all the time. When we’re going to parties or lunch with my parents, she always insists on carrying whatever plate we brought with us until we get there.” He chucked her shoulder playfully. “A little superstitious about making sure your food’s perfect, right luv?” “No,” she said, biting back her smile, “I just like to ensure that whatever we bring over ends up on a table and not in your stomach before we leave the flat.” Ron nodded and tucked back into what was probably his fourth helping of eggs, his ear reddening. “Oh.” Ginny laughed and smiled at Harry from across the table, wiggling her toes in her shoes as she did. No, simple didn’t feel that bad at all. ****** The entire village brimmed with life as the six of them made their way into the center of it. Wreaths of fall-colored ribbons and sculpted twigs hung from every lamppost which were all connected to one another by matching streamers. Leaves carpeted the cobblestone streets they walked on, creating a delightful commotion, and sat in large piles scattered throughout the square; if someone approached one too closely, the entire pile would explode in burst of red, orange, and yellow to blanket any passerby. Weavers, crafters, and artists offered up their beautiful creations to be viewed and sold as the scent of warm cider, roasted nuts, and a plethora of sweet pies and cakes permeated the air. Sausage links and beef strips hung from many of the food stands and every conceivable means of preparing apples were offered up by the vendors. Various performers were entertaining the crowds of younglings; one wizard had a group of children enraptured by a puppet show where the dolls were being controlled by his wand, as if conducting a musical piece; another had a tiny little creature that looked like a fluffy cat doing tricks, like changing colors or singing a jaunty tune as he danced a waltz on his hind legs; there was even a witch carefully Transfiguring the facial features of some children (under the watchful eyes of their parents) to give them small elephant ears or pig snouts. For the less daring, there was a station for face painting, only with the paint morphing ever so often from one image to another; someone could begin with leopard spots and change to zebra stripes a few minutes later. Musicians played on a small stage near the giant metal rings that circled just as gracefully around each other as the dancers in the center of the square did, much like Ginny’s first night in Hastom. Further out beyond the square, in the wide open spaces of the fields and pastures, races were being run and games played for prizes, ribbons, and bragging rights. “This is incredible,” Hermione breathed as she, like Ginny, tried to take everything in. Clinging tightly to Harry’s hand, Ginny could only nod in agreement. The scene should have been overwhelming. It was crazy and loud and chaotic, but it was beautiful and never suffocating. Ron’s face was the only one of the group not awash with giddiness. His eyes took everything in as he was–for the first time in his life–seeing the place he had feared so greatly since childhood up close and personal. There was wall of distrust around him, his posture ready for any sudden attack or surprise. “For goodness sakes, Ron,” Ginny shook her head at him. “There is nothing in this place that will try to harm you. Stop being such a git and enjoy yourself.” “You don’t think I know what a moron I’m being?” Ron asked her with raised eyebrows. He pulled Hermione closer to his side when a group of teenagers ran right by them, casting spells at each other that caused large blots of paint to stain their clothing. “Harry Potter himself, the Auror who will never recommend probation for anyone arrested at the Battle of Hogwarts, tells me this place is safe, which means it is beyond any doubt. Only I have to try to settle that with over twenty years of thinking the opposite. Believe me, it’s not that simple.” “You’re doing wonderfully, Ron,” Hermione told him, pecking his cheek. “You have no idea how proud of you I am, just being here now. I thought it would take months and months to get through your thick…” She trailed off at the look her boyfriend was giving her and tried to recover. “You’re always so…there is never…sod it, I’m just glad you’re here of your own free will and I didn’t have to use magical intervention on you.” “Thanks. I really appreciate that, ‘Mione.” He tempered his sarcastic response with a loving kiss to her forehead. “Well, I know something that might help ease your tension,” Nell offered helpfully. “A Calming Draught?” Ron asked doubtfully. “Nope. Alcohol. A couple of shots of Firewhiskey and you should be all sorted out enough to have some fun. Darling,” she smiled at Bart, “why don’t you and Harry take Ron around to do manly things for a bit while I take the ladies under my wing.” “And what are you going to be doing that you would be so eager to get rid of your husband?” Bart asked. “Shopping,” she replied. “Goodbye,” he said immediately, tucking his pumpkin securely underneath his arm. Hermione urged Ron to follow him with a gentle shove. Harry gave Ginny a questioning look. “Will you be alright if I go?” he asked. “Of course I will, you prat,” she said affectionately, giving his shoulder a light punch. “Go have a drink or two. One for you and one for me. Just get Ron to loosen up a bit,” she added under her breath. “He’s wound tighter than Hermione during N.E.W.T.s.” “Will do.” He gave her smile in goodbye as the men set off on their own, Bart positioning Harry and Ron on either side of him and his precious Betty. The three women spent the next hour or so merrily walking around the crowded square, sampling the different cuisines and browsing the various handmade goods on display. As Nell explained some more about her upbringing in Hastom to Hermione, Ginny tuned them out, having heard most of it already and let herself drift away aimlessly, until she was standing in front of a stand selling knit pieces. A yellow sleeper made of the softest looking material Ginny had ever seen caught her attention. A picture formed in her mind of a small baby with licks of bright hair wearing this and she picked it up, fingering the outfit delicately. The vendor pretended to adjust the buttons on his leather vest and eyed her carefully. “It’s made of a special fabric,” he told her. “We take goose feathers and sheep wool and combine the two together magically. Ancient family secret. Nothing else like it anywhere in the world. Everything handmade by my wife and daughters just like my mother and sister made them.” “It’s beautiful,” Ginny said. She laid it over the swell of her stomach to get a good look at the tiny arms and feet of the sleeper, unable to hide her smile as Iris started doing somersaults. “My wife makes a wide variety of infant items: Hats, blankets, booties. All sorts of things.” “How much for this piece?” The man bit his lip, his fingers coming up to brush through his goatee. “Like I said, it’s a very special fabric. I think that…twelve Galleons is a fair enough price for it.” Ginny’s smile fell slowly. Twelve Galleons? She had never once paid that much for clothes, even her school robes. Even when she began playing for the Harpies and making her own money, it had seemed wasteful to spend money on a new outfit when she could buy three for the same price secondhand. The fancy gowns and designer clothes Lionel had gifted her with didn’t count. It wasn’t her money, just his that she had unfortunately chosen to accept. With so much of her money from the pub tied up in materials for constructing the house she’d receive when she became a citizen, there was so little left to buy things for the baby. Her sisters-in-law had been godsends, mailing over bags of baby clothes that their own children had outgrown as well as things like receiving blankets, spare bottles, and cloth nappies. She had been meaning to write back and see if one of them had an old pram or bassinet in storage she could use rather than buy one new. Hoping her long hair hid the burning of her ears, Ginny neatly folded the sleeper back up and handed it back to the vendor. “It’s a lovely piece,” she told him. “I’m afraid it’s a little out of my price range though.” “Normally, I wouldn’t negotiate,” he started to say, “but you seem like a sweet girl. Just this once, for you, I’ll let you have it for eleven Galleons.” “Thank you, but-” “Nine Galleons and the tan blanket with the duck stitched in the center of it,” Hermione’s voice said from just behind Ginny. She elbowed gently past Ginny to stand in front of the vendor, arms crossed, ready for battle. Nell sidled up to them and prepared to watch the show. He mimicked Hermione’s pose as he addressed her. “Ten Galleons for the sleeper and blanket. That’s more than fair. And since you look like a visitor, I’ll even throw in a pair of matching booties.” “Nine Galleons, five sickles, and two pairs of booties.” “Fifteen sickles.” “Ten. Final offer.” He didn’t look thrilled, but he nodded stoically. “Deal.” Before Ginny could stop her, Hermione pulled out her handbag and reached in for the money, paying the man promptly and collecting her purchases. She smiled over at her dumbstruck friends. “You’re welcome,” she told Ginny as the trio walked away from the stand and continued their shopping. “I have never seen anyone get Marcuson to go that low,” Nell commented. “Where’d you learn that?” “My grandmother loved going to rummage sales when I was little. I can’t tell you how many times I saw her buy bags and bags of clothes for just a few coins.” She handed the bag to Ginny. “I think the baby will look adorable in it.” “Normally I wouldn’t even think of accepting this, but money…” Ginny sighed and patted her stomach. “You have no idea how many things you need or how expensive they can all be until you have a baby. Thanks, Hermione.” Hermione nodded slowly and took a moment to give her opinions a voice. “Is there any chance…I mean, I know you said the father shouldn’t be involved and I trust your judgment in that regard. Perhaps if the arrangement were strictly financial, then-” “No,” Ginny cut in. “I won’t accept money from him. I can’t.” “I’m sure you think you’re doing the right thing, but you shouldn’t let that blasted Weasley pride interfere with providing care for your baby. What’s the worst that could happen if the father has to pay some stipend of support?” Hermione replied, trying on a scarf and not noticing the look Nell and Ginny exchanged with one another. Pride was not was keeping her from Lionel and his vaults full of all the gold needed to care for her child, although the Weasley aspect of that pride played more into than she could let Hermione know. There was no way she would ever risk destroying her family for the ability to buy nice things for her baby. No way she would ever risk destroying Harry either. “I only ask as a friend,” Hermione continued. “This man does have responsibilities to his child that the law requires him to uphold, after all.” “He won’t,” Ginny said quietly. Not quietly enough though. Hermione slowly unwrapped the plaid scarf from her neck and hung it back on its hook. “Harry mentioned that you didn’t know the man’s name,” she said to Ginny, her eyes crinkling in study. “That it was a one-time thing and he was married and you didn’t even tell him about the baby. How can you be sure he wouldn’t agree to some kind of assistance?” Damn it. Why does she have to be so smart? Would it have killed Harry and Ron to make friends with Lavender Brown first year instead of Hermione? Ginny glanced at Nell for help, but found her friend trying on different hats about twenty feet away with her back to them. Her message to Ginny was clear: “You signed that stupid contract so you get to live with the consequences of it.” “I really wish Harry hadn’t told you all that,” Ginny began, leading Hermione to a relatively quiet spot tucked behind two stands. “Obviously, I’m not proud of what happened and it wasn’t something I wanted to be common knowledge.” “It isn’t,” Hermione assured. “He was…upset when he told me after I asked him last week if he knew who the farther was and made me promise I wouldn’t mention anything to Ron or your family. Which I won’t.” “I appreciate that.” “You’re welcome. Now, I’d appreciate it if you were honest with me and with Harry.” “It doesn’t matter who the father is or what his name is or how much contact with him I had,” Ginny argued. “It isn’t the business of Harry or anyone else. The man isn’t fit to be involved so he won’t be. At all. End of discussion. Like I explained to my brother last night, it helps no one, especially Harry, if the father’s name is even mentioned in public so it won’t be.” That, at least, was true. Hermione looked like she wanted very much to shake Ginny by the shoulders, but simply sighed and shook her own head. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Ginny,” she said. “That’s all I’ll say on the matter.” “Thank you.” “I will add, though, that keeping things to yourself had particularly unsavory consequences for people other than you in the past and that it may do you well to remember that.” “I know.” No need to remind her of that one. She carried the guilt of it with her every day, the weight of it nearly as cumbersome as her own child was becoming. “And I do hope, for your sake, what Harry said about this man not knowing about the baby was true.” They made their way slowly back to Nell. “Why is that?” Ginny asked. “Because with the present circumstances, he still has rights to the child. Under the wizarding laws in Great Britain regarding child custody, unless both you and he go before a judge and mutually agree to sever his legal rights, they remain intact until the child turns seventeen,” Hermione explained. “Which means he could show up at the hospital after the birth or the baby’s first day of school at Hogwarts to make a claim for custody and any magistrate in the land would grant it, unless you could prove beyond all doubt that he was unfit in some way. Something that can be extremely difficult to do.” If her advice was meant to spark some kind of fear in Ginny, it didn’t work. Lionel had made his intentions clear from the moment she told him she was having his child. There was not a paternal bone in his body. He was probably the most selfish man alive, using blackmail to avoid offering support to a child he had fathered. There was nothing she knew about him that led her to think Lionel would ever change his mind about his role in Iris’s life. Going before a judge was unnecessary, not even worth bothering with. Especially considering she would have to say under oath that Lionel was the baby’s father, something that would cause an avalanche of trouble that a technicality was not worth. Not to mention that if she made any attempt to contact Lionel now, she’d risk Harry finding out the truth. There had to be only so many times a one person could lie to another before whatever bonded them together broke forever. If she was sure of nothing else in the world, she was at least sure of that. She was saved from continuing the conversation by the appearance of Harry, Bart, and a visibly excited Ron between them. Hermione smiled a little to herself and went to wrap her arms around her boyfriend. “Did you have fun with the boys?” He looked around the square of Hastom and smiled softly. “Do you know something, ‘Mione?” He kissed her soundly in front of everyone. “I kind of like this place. Harry and Ginny were both right. Everyone here’s real nice and there’s so many amazing things to do here. They also have all kinds of shops with things you wouldn’t find anywhere else: Clothing, food, animals. Even jewelry.” “I’m glad to hear that you feel better about this place.” “I do. I really, really, do.” He played with a stray lock of her hair as he swallowed deeply. “Do you know something amazing that we can do here together?” “What?” “Get married.” Nell, having no knowledge of Ron and Hermione’s little exchange, nearly spit out the Butterbeer her husband had just handed her. Grinning, Ginny settled next to Harry’s side to watch. Hermione smirked and stepped back a little to give Ron some space. “Alright, go ahead,” she said. “Pull out a ‘ring’ and tell me how your life won’t be complete without me in it. Let’s do it quick, though, there’s an exhibit on Icelandic witch’s robes that I want to go and see before lunch.” Ron nodded, his smile fading. “Okay,” he told her. With a great deliberation, he sunk down to one knee and pulled a black box from his jacket pocket, presenting it to a giggling Hermione. Beside her, Ginny felt Harry stiffen in realization. “This is new,” Hermione said. She put it to her ear and shook it. “Never had a fancy box before. Not noisy, whatever it is. Perhaps a dead ladybug or an old toenail?” “Is she always this crazy,” Nell whispered in Ginny’s ear, “or did she somehow fall and hit her head without anyone noticing?” Ginny started to answer, but the solemn look on her brother’s face gave her pause. Oh goodness, she thought, her breath catching. She looked to Harry for confirmation and he nodded with wide eyes. Ron’s serious. He’s bloody well proposing and…and… Hermione had no idea whatsoever. “I must say, this is one of your least memorable proposals, Ronald. There’s no singing, no banners, no flock of birds to be released or party hats to celebrate with. Are you getting lazy on me?” Ginny wanted to wring her friend’s neck out like a wet shirt. There was a small crowd gathering around them, all eyes curiously on the bushy-haired young woman mocking the man in front of her on one knee. Open the damn box, Hermione! “We’re on a vacation, for goodness sakes,” she continued as, at last, she started to ease the top of the box open. “You could have at least had a dwarf dressed as a cherub playing the harp next to you while you…you…” The sunlight reflected off the jewel in the box, blinding Hermione for a moment as she sputtered to a stop. Glancing between the box and the small smile on Ron’s lips, Hermione screamed loudly and backed away until she collided with a lamppost. “I met you when I was eleven years old,” Ron began earnestly from his spot, “and from then until the age of eighteen, I was a sodding idiot. There’s no question about it. The only thing that makes it bearable is knowing that you were, too. It shouldn’t have taken the threat of imminent death for us to accept how much we loved each other and now that we do have a future where we don’t have to worry every day about a madman killing us or our families, I want to spend all of it with you. Hermione Granger, will you-?” “RONALD WEASLEY, YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY THE STUPIEST MAN TO EVER WALK THE PLANET!!!” Hermione screeched before he could finish, gesturing wildly with her hands and coming forward to smack him lightly upside the head, much to the crowds shock. Instead of deflating, Ron only smiled lovingly up at her. “There is a plan! A plan I’ve had since I was thirteen years-old! We are supposed to date for three years, live together for four, go through two and half years of counseling to prepare ourselves, and then, finally, you were supposed to propose to me at my parent’s fortieth wedding anniversary party so we wouldn’t have to pay for a photographer to capture such a happy occasion!” Growling, she shoved him hard and turned away. “Now wait a tick!” Ron grabbed her wrist and used it to stop her while pulling himself up. Turning her, he used one hand to take the box from her and the other to cup her cheek with. “Do you love me?” All of the ire left her system at his simple question. With tears in her eyes, she answered tremulously, “Of course I do.” “Do you want to put up with me every single day for the rest of our lives?” She nodded and smiled slightly. “I do.” “Then just say yes.” “But…But the plan is-” “Hermione, I solemnly swear that from now until the end of time, you can plan every single aspect of our lives together: How many kids we have, where we live, what I wear to work in the morning. You can have carte blanche over all of it. For this one thing, this one instance, let’s go with my plan.” “Which is?” “Well, I don’t think we’ll have an issue finding a magistrate to draw us up a contract or that would mind marrying us today. We have our best friends here to stand with us,” Ron smiled at Harry and his teary-eyed sister, “and two more friends to serve as witnesses.” He nodded at Nell and Bart before sheepishly looking over the dozens of other people gathered around them. “Plus, uh, I’m sure some kind stranger here has a camera we can borrow.” The crowd laughed quietly and a few in it nodded. Ron looked back down at Hermione with such love and tenderness, Ginny felt her knees wobble. Harry reached over and took her hand in his, everyone else around them completely still and silent. “So please, just marry me, ‘Mione. Because in all honesty, my life really isn’t complete without you in it.” Wrapping her arms around Ron’s neck, Hermione managed to say, “Two children. A boy and a girl.” She kissed his cheek. “We’ll live in London and get a summer cottage in Scotland for two weeks every year.” Another kiss to his other cheek. “You can wear whatever you like to work as long as it’s not plaid and it doesn’t have anything to do with the Chudley Cannons.” She finally brushed her lips across his and nestled her nose against his before whispering for all to hear, “Yes.” Applause and cheering broke out around them as they held each other in their own world. “You think they realize,” Harry murmured against Ginny’s ear over the roar of the crowd, “that your mother will absolutely kill them when she finds out what they’ve done?” “No,” Ginny replied happily, “but I truly hope someone is recording her face when they tell her.” She smiled at him, loving how the joy shone in every part of his eyes. They were beautiful eyes and she saddened a bit as she suddenly realized that no matter how perfect her daughter was, Iris would never have green eyes. ****** “We’re married,” Hermione sighed, tangled together with her new husband in Nell and Bart’s kitchen. “We’re really married.” Nell and Ginny smiled at them, putting the finishing touches on an apple tart together near the stove. “Yes, we are.” “I love you so much.” “I love you, too.” Hermione plucked a cherry from the fruit bowl on the table and put it between her lips. Ron met her in the middle and they devoured the piece of fruit as one. The smile slipped off Nell’s face and Ginny looked away before she threw up all over a perfectly lovely desert. “Guys,” Bart said to Ron and Hermione from his place next to them at the table without looking up from his project. He had his pumpkin in front of him and he studied each section of it carefully before he took his craving knife to it. “You’ve been married for five days now. The lovey-dovey is getting pretty stale. Lighten up a bit, please. For the sake of all our digestive systems.” Hermione only glared at Bart as she reached for another cherry. “I’m sure you and your wife were just as enthralled with each other as my husband and I are. Forgive my husband and I for wanting to revel in our happiness. You see, my husband and I-” “Ron,” Ginny cut in as she packaged the sweet treat with the other dozen, “please tell your wife that if she doesn’t climb off of you and shut her trap, I will take the picture of her I have from the Christmas dinner seventh year and send it to The Daily Prophet, where I’m sure it will rate a front-page cover. I don’t think your wife or her new mother-in-law would enjoy seeing her in a skin-tight green-” Hermione slid off Ron’s lap into her own seat, putting considerable distance between them. Ron could only stare at his sister with glassy eyes. “I-I’d like to see that,” he said feebly. “Thank you,” Bart said to Ginny. He made another delicate cut to the flesh of the pumpkin. “It’s really hard to concentrate with those two tongue dueling all the time and Betty here needs all my focus for today.” “Dear Betty has gotten all of your focus for nearly a week now,” Nell muttered under her breath. “For Merlin’s sake, you’ve bathed the damn thing…” “Perfection is costly and not for the faint of heart,” Bart replied. He slowly let out a breath as he completed a particular cut. “Sacrifices must be made to attain it.” Nell made a face as she gathered her share of the desserts and shrunk them down to fit easily into hers and Ginny’s purses. “Have a wonderful morning attaining it, my love. We’re going to drop these off for the potluck lunch. Ron or Hermione, would you care to join us?” Even sitting apart, it wasn’t hard to spot Ron’s hand gently stroking Hermione’s knee. Nor was it hard to imagine how those two would occupy their time until Bart’s Jack-o’-lantern contest that afternoon. “I’m a bit knackered, actually,” Ron said, never taking his eyes off his wife. “Think I might take a quick kip before we leave.” Hermione smiled devilishly. “And I have some paperwork from the Ministry that simply must be attended to.” “Just so long as you two don’t attend to the ‘paperwork’ on my bed, feel free to use any other room or surface in my house for your attending. I would also appreciate it if you were liberal with the Scrubbing Charms afterwards,” Nell told them as she kissed the top of her husband’s head in goodbye. “Good luck today. I’ll see you after the judging.” “No thanks,” he said, holding the carved pumpkin up to the light for examination. “I’m not hungry, I’ll eat later.” Nell and Ginny were out the door when Nell decided to take out her frustrations on a poor pile of leaves. “My third cousin Hildy lived a perfectly happy life as a celibate spinster. Why didn’t I see the wisdom of her choices until it was too late?” “So you married a man who can be a bit of a nutter at times. Who cares? He adores you,” Ginny consoled her. “Believe me, there are worse men in the world to end up with.” Nell smirked a little. “I suppose you’re something of an expert on that subject, aren’t you?” “I’m afraid I could teach a course in it.” “Still, you have to admit he did leave you with a priceless parting gift.” She reached over and patted Ginny’s belly before she grew serious. “You’re really not worried? About what Hermione said the other day about Lionel coming back someday and having rights to my godchild?” “No,” Ginny said simply. “I saw his face when he told me he wanted me to terminate. That man has no room in whatever excuse he has for a heart for anyone except himself. Your goddaughter only has a mother and that’s that.” They kept a leisurely pace as they made their way to the pasture where the potluck would be held. “How was Harry when he left this morning?” Nell finally asked. Ginny shrugged a little. “Quiet,” she said. “A bit out of sorts. I imagine it’s hard for him today, thinking about everything he lost all those years ago.” “It’s good that he goes to Godric’s Hollow to visit with his parents’ graves. Truthfully, I don’t know how healthy it is for him to spend the entire day there, at the cemetery and at his parents’ house, but if it helps him in some way I suppose I shouldn’t complain. Did he have his Invisibility Cloak with him?” “He tucked it in his jacket before he left the house. And I made sure he took a lunch with him so he wouldn’t have to be seen if he didn’t want to be.” “You take very good care of him,” Nell observed thoughtfully. “Someone should, on this day more than ever,” Ginny said, kicking a stray stone. “When I think of him as a child sometimes, growing up with those rotten, vile monsters he had to call family…” She shuddered and laid a hand over the baby. “I can’t even think of someone treating my daughter like that, as a servant, a slave if something happened to me.” Nell studied the path they were walking on intently before she spoke gently. “That’s actually something I need to discuss with you. As your healer and not as your friend. Something that should be a part of the birth plan, as a single parent.” “What exactly?” “I just want to say before I get this out that you’re fine and the baby is fine and I don’t anticipate anything for you but a healthy and safe delivery. Alright? Is that clear?” “Yes, perfectly.” “Okay. So with all that, as your healer, it’s my duty to advise you that as you are the only parent who can, or rather will be making legal decisions for the baby, it would be best if you had a will made out before you give birth.” “A will? You mean in case…” “Yes, in case you die before your child is of age. That way you have the final say over who you want to have custody and control over whatever assets you may have. Otherwise, legally, Lionel would have to be tracked down and he would have the authority to decide whom your child lived with. Something absolutely none of us would want.” “No,” Ginny agreed softly. Death wasn’t something she cared to think of often, especially her own. However, her qualms and apprehensions were a distant second to ensuring that Iris had the best life possible. “Okay then. Thank you. Maybe I can detach Hermione from my brother long enough to see if she can help me before they leave.” “Good.” She raised an eyebrow. “Any…any ideas on who you would pick off the top of your head?” “I think, hopefully, you and Bart will have a houseful of children of your own. Adding my own to the mix probably would make things a bit crowded.” “Yes. I mean, don’t misunderstand me. We’d be happy, honored really, to raise your child as our own. I just think that perhaps, maybe, there’s someone better suited to the job than us.” “Well, my parents are wonderful, but they’re getting older and I don’t want them to have go through another seventeen years of child rearing at their age,” Ginny thought out loud. “I think if I’d want any of my brothers to take care of my baby, it would be Bill. He has two girls of his own, though, and a third baby on the way. I know what it was to be raised in a large family, how much effort it took my parents, and I don’t feel right asking my brother to do that. Neville might be willing, he’s a good friend. Of course he doesn’t know that I’m even pregnant so that’s a whole other conversation-” “What about Harry?” Nell blurted out. “I think he’d be ideal, actually.” Harry? Raising Iris? Being a fath…a-a guardian to her? How would that ever work? “Why do you say that?” Ginny asked as casually as she could. “He lives here in Hastom, the place you’ve said countless times that you want the baby to grow up in; he has a good paying job so he can provide well; he’s close to your entire family and can make sure that everyone stays connected to the baby. And…and he cares already, Ginny. Surely you can see how much he cares for that little one.” “I know he does,” she deferred. “Then wouldn’t he be the best choice out there? Can you really think of anyone better?” Nell implored. To raise my child? Not since I was eight years-old. No one else has even come close. “It’s a huge responsibility,” Ginny said instead. “Harry’s already so committed to Teddy and he doesn’t even live with Harry full-time. I just don’t think I’d feel right about asking him to do something so…so…” She gestured helplessly with her hands, unable to think of a word that would encompass taking in her daughter. He had taken them both in, temporarily, out of obligation to his village and out of friendship. And it was true what Nell had said before. Harry did care for the baby. Every touch and funny comment to her belly proved that. It wasn’t surprising to her. He had fought a war, nearly given his own life countless times, to ensure that the world was peaceful and happy. Why shouldn’t he find joy in the knowledge that all his efforts would be appreciated by an innocent child coming into such a world? But no matter what he felt for Iris, or the woman carrying her, it wasn’t fair of Ginny to try to foist something like this on Harry. Not if there were other options. It wasn’t something a…if she asked him this, she wouldn’t be a good… Friend? That’s the word, isn’t it? That’s the perfect description for what I am to Harry. Isn’t it? Ginny grimaced a little, hating how acrid that one word–friend–tasted even in her own private musings. “Just think about it,” Nell told her, “and talk to Harry about it. His answer might surprise you.” “I will,” she said simply. They made their way back from the pasture slowly, stopping every so often to chat with a fellow villager or admire an interesting Halloween costume one of the children had decided to sport early, in preparation for tonight’s trick or treating. They walked by the stage that would display the afternoon’s Jack-o’-lanterns and Nell gave a grunt of disproval. “I swear, Bart gets worse every single year,” she said. “It’s like with every win, he gets more obsessed with winning. He’s going to take the blasted thing into bed with us next year, I guarantee it.” “Just make the pumpkin a little basket, like for a dog, to keep next the bed,” Ginny joked. “That should satisfy him.” “It’s not nice to think, but I almost want him to lose just so he gets knocked down a peg or twelve.” “Maybe he will this year.” “Not likely. My husband can make an excellent Jack-o’-lantern, I will give him that. And the judges love him, too. Unless someone pulls out something either incredibly creative–I’m talking spitting fire creative–or incredibly adorable, Bart will be bringing home blue ribbon number four.” She sighed in annoyance. It was only by chance to avoid a pair of four year-old twins dressed as dragons that the stand caught Ginny’s eye. The idea popped in a second later and she grinned to herself. “Nell,” she said to her friend, “do you mind if I meet you later, after the judging?” “Sure. Is everything alright?” Ginny’s grin became something bordering on evil. “Everything is just fine. I think I just figured out a way to drop your husband down about twelve pegs.” She hurried away, leaving Nell gaping after her. Hours later, as she prepared for the judging, Ginny smoothed her hand over her belly and whispered down to it, “Ready to show up Uncle Bart in front of the entire village, sweetheart?” The baby kicked in reply. “Yup, that’s what I thought.” Standing behind a line of people carrying round, orange creations, she followed them out as the procession took their places on the wide wooden stage, oblivious to the strange looks they were all giving her. Bart couldn’t see her from his place in the line. It wasn’t until the head judge, Mr. Winterfell, announced the names of the contestants that he glanced down in surprise when he heard hers called. Quirking an eyebrow at her empty hands, Ginny only smiled coyly and turned her head to find most of the village glancing at her in much the same way. They all must have thought her off her rocker, to be competing in Jack-o’-lantern carving contest with no pumpkin to offer. She’d show them all, in just a few minutes. One by one, the twenty or so competitors stepped up to center stage and presented their creations before the village through a large piece of glass (charmed to magnify the image behind it thirty feet high) and the four judges. Bart, being the reigning champion, was first and dear Betty now had an entire scene from the classic tale, The Fountain of Fair Fortune depicted all around her, in intricate detail; the characters on it had unique facial expressions and the water in the fountain itself seemed to gleam somehow. It was truly a work of art and Bart received rave applause from the judges and the spectators alike. His grin stretched to his hairline and he waved magnanimously to the crowd, wholly confident that another blue ribbon would soon be his. Not if I can help it, Ginny thought, cradling her stomach. The rest of the contestants followed Bart with slumped shoulders and indifferent looks. They were all just in the path of a runaway carriage; nothing to be done now, but get run over by it. Two people even slipped quietly off the stage before they could be called. Amid polite applause and encouraging pats on the back, all the others stepped back to their spots until only Ginny remained. Here we go, she thought when Mr. Winterfell had called her. With an angelic smile, she walked to the center and stood between the four judges in front of the glass. The quartet exchanged puzzled glances with one another; in front of her, the villagers murmured and pointed. “My dear,” Mr. Winterfell mumbled nervously to her. “Are you…Are you sure you’re in the right contest? This is for decorating pumpkins, after all.” “I know it is,” she replied, “and I brought one with me.” “Well, uh, where is it, may I ask?” Seizing up her confidence before it failed her, Ginny grabbed the tails of her shirt and pulled them up. “Right here. The most precious pumpkin imaginable.” The crowd in front of her gasped a little when they took in the site of her large, pregnant stomach painted bright orange all over. A pair of warm brown eyes sat over her belly button and underneath it, the smile of an eager child. A hint of pink on both side created the illusion of a shy blush and the wide, inviting smile even had two teeth missing from it. The face painter had taken nearly four hours to complete the image by hand and in Ginny’s mind it was well-worth the two Galleons it cost her. To the crowds as well. After a moment of stunned silence, the crowd began clapping wildly, whistling and cheering on Ginny’s cheek. The judges around her hid laughter behind their hands and nodded to themselves in delight. Unable to help herself, she looked back at Bart. He frowned and clutched Betty tightly to him. When the applause finally died down, Mr. Winterfell gave her a sturdy handshake. “Thank you very much, my dear! That was quite a show. We won’t soon forget that one.” Ginny lowered her shirt and waved to the crowd, blowing a few farewell kisses as she went back to her place in line. After a brief conversation, the judges handed out the ribbons for sixth, fifth, fourth, and third place in quick succession. “Now, now, I think,” Mr. Winterfell addressed the crowd, “we all know who the top two finishers are today. May I ask Citizen Nixon and Prospect Weasley to please step forward while we deliberate and see who the victor here is today.” The two friends walk forward until they stood next to each other on stage. “You think you’re real funny, don’t you?” Bart asked behind a wide grin for the crowd watching them. “Coming in here and trying to mess with my happiness. Well, let me tell you something, sister: This is mine to lose.” “I think that you sound very confident for a wizard who should be shaking in his shoes. You worked on your design for five days; mine took a fraction of that time and it’s about to take your crown away from you.” “Oh, is that what you think? That you can just come up here and compete with the big boys your first time up?” “I don’t think it, I know it. After all, I am standing up here with you, aren’t I, Big Boy?” “That’s what all this is about? Showing me up?” “Mostly, yes, but it’s also about showing you that you’re acting like a complete prat about the entire thing. I mean, you’ve ignored your wife for almost a week to win a stupid ribbon! Can’t you see how ridiculous that is?” “No more ridiculous than you using your unborn son to win that same ribbon. Huh? Who’s the prat now?” Ginny turned her face sharply towards him at his words. “I’m sorry?” “You heard me, you pr-” “Did you say my son?” she asked quietly. The phony smile fell away slowly as her heart began to pound. Bart’s eyes widened and he turned to her as well. “No,” he said after a pause. “I-I didn’t say that at all.” “You said my son.” “I said your kid, not your son,” he tried to hastily deny. “No, you didn’t.” “Yes, I did.” “No, you said-” “And first place, despite a most valiant effort by Prospect Weasley, for the fourth year in a row goes to Citizen Nixon!” Mr. Winterfell announced, coming between then and wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders while he magically pinned their ribbons to their chests. They whipped their heads unblinkingly to the roaring crowd as Ginny clutched her stomach. A….A….son?! My son?! Somehow, as Bart remained for pictures, Ginny made her way down from the stage in a daze. Almost immediately, she found Nell, Ron, and Hermione waiting for her. They all began speaking to her at once “That was incredible!” Hermione said as she hung on Ron’s arm. “Where on Earth did you come up with that idea? I never-” “Personally,” Ron said with a peck to her cheek, “I liked Bart’s better, but yours-” Nell gave her a squeeze as well. “I have to admit, seeing the look on his face when everyone started clapping for you was-” “He told me I’m having a boy,” Ginny said without preamble when Nell pulled back. “On stage just now, Bart said the baby is a boy. Why-Why would he think that? I’m having a girl.” Nell’s mouth dropped open in shock, her cheeks flaming. Ginny didn’t give her a chance to answer. “My baby’s a girl. Right?” Something suddenly splattered at their feet and they looked down to see the remnants of poor Betty on the ground, Bart splayed out behind it on his knees. He scrambled upright and raced to join them. “I didn’t say anything!” he cried out in a panic. “I didn’t! She’s…She’s insane, that’s all!” “Nell,” Ginny shook her to get her attention, “what’s going on? Why does Bart think I’m having a boy?” The healer looked between Ginny and the guilty face of her husband before she took Ginny by the shoulders and looked her square in the eye. “Because you are,” she admitted. “That…that’s…no,” Ginny replied with a small smile. This wasn’t happening. It was a dream, a bizarre dream like the one she had had the other day that shook her to the core the same way she felt now. “That’s wrong. You’re mistaken. The baby’s a girl. I…I know it. I’ve known it since…” She trailed off as Nell shook her head. “It’s a boy. I’m one hundred percent positive.” Nell tried to laugh. “Either that or she has two and half legs.” Her laughter faded as she turned her eyes to her husband. “How did you know anyways?” “You’ve been buying blue baby clothes for three months now and you suck at hiding things in the house. It wasn’t that hard to piece together,” Bart said incredulously. “Well, of course it’s a boy,” Ginny heard Ron say distantly. “She’s a Weasley, what else would she have?” “Ronald, that is entirely far too sexist for-” “Guys, be quiet!” Nell hushed them. She studied Ginny carefully. “I’m sorry. You just…you said you didn’t want to know the sex for certain so that’s why I didn’t say anything whenever you referred to the baby as a ‘she’. And the most important thing is that the baby is healthy. That’s what matter most, right?” No! It matters! It matter a great deal!Ginny screamed in her head. “Yes,” she said quietly to her friends. “Yes, that’s wh-what really counts. In the end.” An awkward silence hung over all of them for a moment before Bart cleared his throat. “So, uh, listen we all have to get ready for the party tonight. We should start heading back.” “You’re right,” Nell agreed. “Ginny, you’re welcome to come and change at our house.” Ginny shook her head, easing herself out of Nell’s gentle hold. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine at my…at Harry’s house.” Backing away, she raised a hand in goodbye, flushing at the concerned looks they were all given her. “I-I’ll see you later.” Pivoting abruptly, she left the festival for the safety of home, her hand never once coming off her stomach. ****** That evening, as she wore a ludicrously hideous outfit and passed out drinks to hordes of others in equally ludicrous outfits at the loud and boisterous Halloween party at the Falcon, Ginny’s mind was still a world away. The world where everything made sense and she was still having a girl. The world where Iris still existed. There was no Iris, not anymore. There was someone else growing inside Ginny. Someone she didn’t know at all and it was terrifying to her. In the whirlwind of uncertainty her life had been for the past five months, she had been able to cling tightly to one thing whole and true: Her little girl. Now, that truth was gone and in its place was a…a… Ginny raced into the back of the pub. She ducked into Bart’s quiet office and shut her eyes, feeling the tears well behind them as the celebration went on without her. She couldn’t even think the word in her mind, let alone say it out loud. You are awful, Ginevra Molly Weasley, truly awful. You can’t even acknowledge what your own child is. What the hell kind of mother will you make? You know what would really serve you right? If that child came out the spitting image of Lionel. That would really tie things together nicely, wouldn’t it? The crack of a branch outside the window of the office suddenly startled her. Ginny didn’t have time to scream before she saw Harry’s face in the window for a second before he bent down. Her heart eased at the sight of him. He hadn’t spotted her yet so she quickly wiped her eyes and took a breath to calm down as he used his wand to open the window. He hoisted himself over the ledge and was halfway in when he finally saw her. “Hey,” he greeted her with a grunt as he shoved himself through the opening. She went to his side and helped him to his feet. “What are you doing in here?” “Just…Just taking a moment. It’s a bit crazy out there. What about you? They have these newfangled things called ‘doors’ nowadays.” Harry smiled a little. “Like you said, it’s crazy in there. I wanted to sneak in here and get my bearings for a little while before I braved it. I don’t Apparate in because of a particular…steamy moment I caught Bart and Nell in once. More than once, actually. It’s best to check the room first before you go barging into places they own,” He sat down on the small bench by the door with his knees to his elbows. He smirked at her outfit. “Lovely getup. It suits you.” She bristled at the mere mention of the glittery gold tuxedo jacket and shorts that Bart had presented her with the other day. She was supposed to be someone called Columbia from The Rocky Horror Picture Show and the jeweled corseted top stretched tightly over her stomach. “Did you just get back from Godric’s Hollow?” Ginny asked as she joined him. He nodded. “Yeah. I Apparated to the house and walked here from there. I needed to clear my head.” She laid a comforting hand on his back and made soothing circles with it. “Are you alright?” “Uh-huh.” “I don’t mind listening if there’s something you need to get off your chest,” she prodded. Even in her state, she could see the slight swelling left by tears underneath his eyes. It took him a little while before he was finally able to speak. “Every time I go there,” he began, “I go to the cemetery and tell my parents about what’s happening in my life right now. All the good and all the bad. It’s stupid, really, but it makes me feel closer to them in a way.” “It’s not stupid.” “Anyways, I spend most of the day there with them and before I leave, I walk by the house where they…where we lived when they died. There are always wreaths and flowers there, less now that Voldermort is finally gone. So I’ll just stand there looking up at the mangled old house for ages and do you know the only thing I can think? That my parents would probably both still be here today if it wasn’t for me. Same with Sirius and Remus and so many others I can’t name. It’s just…I don’t know. The more years pass, there are times when it can all feel like it was a dream; being in Godric’s Hollow is when it’s the most real.” Ginny leaned her forehead into his black hair. “I’m sorry.” He took her hand in both of his. “I swear I can even hear her there sometimes. My mother, I mean. Her screams when he confronted her. She must have been so scared, knowing she was…that he would strike her down. I hate that she did that to save me.” “She had to,” Ginny murmured into his ear. “She didn’t have a choice.” “Yes, she did,” Harry said, pulling away to look in her eyes. “He gave her a chance to move and-” “I don’t mean Voldermort didn’t give her one. I meant that, as your mother, there was no choice between your life and hers.” The words poured out of Ginny without thought, only feeling. “You were her baby, the one she felt growing and moving inside of her. From the moment she knew she was carrying you, you were her greatest love and she was going to protect that with every breath she had in her. When your parents learned of the prophecy, I think–no, I know that your mother knew what her fate would be and if it meant keeping you alive, her life was worth it.” Harry glanced down from her face to her belly, lingering on it. “Is that what you thought when you knew you were having the Snitch? That you’d sacrifice anything to keep your child safe?” “Yes,” Ginny replied. “It’s what any mother who truly loves her child thinks. So that’s what your mother thought. Because, Harry, she truly loved you.” “Thank you,” he whispered, meeting her gaze again. “You’re welcome.” They stared into each other’s eyes as the clock ticked in the office and the party raged on without them. Suddenly, the baby gave a swift kick to her ribs and Ginny winced. “Ouch!” Harry let out a nervous laugh. “Little girl’s getting antsy in there, isn’t she?” It took a few seconds for her lips to form the words. “I’m having a b-boy.” He stopped laughing immediately and narrowed his eyes. “Come again?” “The Snitch isn’t a girl,” she explained, watching as he processed the news. “I just found out today. A few hours ago actually. I’m still…It hasn’t really sunk in yet.” “A boy,” Harry tested the words out on his tongue. “That’s…well, unexpected, I suppose.” “Believe me, I know.” “It’s not a bad thing, though.” She looked down at the floor. “Isn’t it?” When she didn’t answer again, he asked quietly, “Do you love the baby less now that it’s a boy?” “No!” Ginny cried, feeling the tears return. “Of course not! He’s my child! I just…I can’t….” “Tell me. If you can, tell me.” He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him. Under the beat of his heart, it wasn’t as hard to understand as it had been before. “Since the moment I knew I was having a baby, I knew that I could be a good mother. I was scared of what would come, but I knew deep down in my heart that I could have a baby and be a good mother. I had been raised by an excellent one, after all. So even when everything went to hell and back around me, I had that certainty that motherhood was something I could handle.” “And…” She smiled sadly. “It was that exact same certainty that also made me so sure I was having a girl. If I was wrong about one, how do I know I wasn’t wrong about both?” Harry didn’t speak for a time, just rubbed his hand up and down Ginny’s arm. “I have seen,” he finally said, “with my own eyes just how much you love this baby. What you’ve sacrificed for it and what you’ve been willing to do to create the best life possible for the both of you. It’s like you just told me: My mother didn’t become my mother the minute they laid me in her arms for the first time; she was my mother as soon as she knew she was carrying me. It’s the same for you. Ginny, you’ve been a mother for months now and you’ve been a damned good one, in my opinion. The only difference is now you’re one to a son instead of a daughter.” “Really?” “Yeah. Besides, think of the good that’s going to come out of having a boy. You’ll never have to worry that your daughter is going to want frilly pink girl things or want to play Tea instead of Quidditch or that she’ll grow up to be just like you.” Ginny laughed into his chest, the heaviness in her heart fading away until it was a distant memory. “I’ll know what’s in store for me, growing up in a houseful of boys and all,” she added. “You’ll get to torture all of his girlfriends when he grows up about how they’re not good enough for him.” She sat up and stared daggers at him. “You honestly think I’m letting another woman near my little boy?” He chuckled at her glare. “Yeah, you’ll be just fine.” “Yes, I will be,” she agreed, rubbing her belly tenderly. “We both will be. Of course, now I have to come up with name for him. Pity, too, because I already had the girl’s name all picked out and ready to go.” “What was it?” Since there was no more daughter, there was no more secret name to be kept between her and Ginny. “Iris.” Harry smiled softly. “That’s a lovely name.” “She was a lovely girl,” Ginny said, still a little sad about saying goodbye to even the idea of her daughter. Her son twirled inside her, though, and it made it easier to let go. “Maybe…Maybe you’ll get to meet her someday,” Harry told her. Before she could reply, the entire pub shook as music began pumping through building loudly. Harry grinned and took her hand, tugging her up. “Come on. You’re not going to want to miss this.” Harry dragged her out of the office and back into the pub. He maneuvered them through the throngs of people until they reached the bar. On the right hand side of it stood a narrow spiral staircase, conjured just for tonight. The crowd clapped and cheered and banged on tables until, at last, a caped figure Apparated onto the top of the stairs. The cape was flung into the mob, revealing a person, in high-heeled black boots; fishnet stockings; a tight black corset and garters; fingerless black leather gloves and a string of pearls to top it all off. Turning to the masses, Ginny gasped when she realized who she was looking at. Bart, powdered pale with ruby red lips and his black hair teased out, greeted his pub. “Hello, babies,” he said in a deep voice. “How are you all tonight, celebrating this delicious Eve of Hallow?” They whooped and cheered right back at him. Ginny could only shake her head in shock. She knew Bart had more than his share of quirks, but this… This was fabulous! He spotted her by the bar and leered playfully at her. “It seems that a new baby has found her way into my castle tonight,” he told everyone. “Shall I properly introduce myself to her?” He was answered with a roar of approval and he nodded in satisfaction. “Then let’s put her where everybody can see her. Boys?” A few sets of hands grasped the back of Ginny’s legs and she felt herself hoisted up to the bar before she could let out a scream. As she got her footing, she felt every pair of eyes on her in the room and she trembled, wary of what was about to happen. Looking to Harry for help, he simply smiled and nodded, calming her. If he felt she was safe, then she knew she was. No matter what Bart had up his sleeve. The rhythm of the music changed to a blistering guitar riff and Bart started making his way down the stairs. He made a microphone appear out of thin air and he started singing into it. How d'you do, I see you've met my faithful handyman He's just a little brought down because when you knocked He thought you were the candyman. Don't get strung out by the way that I look, Don't judge a book by its cover I'm not much of a man by the light of day, But by night I'm one hell of a lover I'm just a Sweet Transvestite from Transsexual, Transylvania. He slinked his way down the railing until he was in the midst of his admirers. He kissed and squeezed a few choice individuals, the biggest one saved for his wife. Nell had on an atrociously short maid’s outfit and her hair was charmed bright red, frizzy and glorious. So let me show you around, maybe play you a sound You look like you're both pretty groovy Or if you want something visual that's not too abysmal We could take in an old Steve Reeves movie. Finally, he reached the bar and lifted himself onto it. He stomped over to Ginny and took her hand, kissing it and using it to pull her flush up against him, her back to his front. Bart danced them together provocatively with the eyes of the Falcon upon them. So you got caught with a flat, well, how about that? Well babies, don't you panic. By the light of the night when it all seems alright I'll get you a satanic mechanic. I'm just a Sweet Transvestite from Transsexual, Transylvania. Ginny’s nerves and fears abated the more she moved with Bart. There’s was no worries about money or Lionel or her baby or where she stood with Harry. There’s was only this moment, surrounded by friends and music and life and the future. She turned in Bart’s arms and led him up and down the length of the bar. So why don't you stay for the night? Or maybe a bite? I could show you my favorite obsession. I've been making a man with blond hair and a tan And he's good for relieving my tension At the last lyrics, Ginny grabbed the microphone and sang the chorus herself , sending the pub into near hysterics. I'm just a Sweet Transvestite from Transsexual, Transylvania. I’m just a Sweet Transvestite from Transsexual, Transylvania. When the music died away, she bowed as best she could to the crowd. The time for worrying was over. The time for living was right here and right now. |
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