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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: 154217; Chapter Total: 7451 Awards: View Trophy Room |
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Author’s note: This is a repost of Chapter Three. I apologize sincerely for the formatting issues the last time I posted this chapter. I don’t know what I did but I did it very poorly. I plead P.E.R.M.S. (Pottermore Early Registration Mania Syndrome) “Well what in the name of Merlin’s crotch was all that about back there?” Ginny calmly looked up at Lionel as he strode into the kitchen from the hallway. She was sitting on the kitchen stool, staring at the wall ahead of her. As soon as she had left the exam room and entered the waiting area, she’d spotted him leafing aimlessly through an old copy of Quidditch Quarterly without a care in the world. Without saying a word to him, she Apparated back to their flat in London and sat down in the kitchen to await his return so she could tell him the facts: 1.) That she was still pregnant, over his wishes. 2.) That she would remain that way for the next seven and a half months, no matter what he tried to convince her of. 3.) That at the end of it all, they would be parents. Or more accurately, that she would be a parent. It was entirely up to Lionel if he wished to be one as well. But if his behavior over the past twenty-four hours was any indication, she’d be the only parent her child would ever have. She hoped desperately that she was wrong. Children deserved to have a father in their lives. She couldn’t comprehend growing up, being raised only by her Mum - not that she doubted for one second that Molly Weasley would have been able to raise more than half a dozen children on her own. There was just something about even the idea of not having Dad there to hold her safely and protect her that curdled Ginny’s stomach. On the extremely rare occasions that she imagined it, Lionel had never been who she dreamed of being the father of her children - that title had belonged to one man and one man only since she was a little girl. But regardless of her wishes and daydreams, he was the father of the baby she was carrying. So no matter her personal feelings towards the man at this moment, she owed her baby at least the chance of having two parents. Which was why, staring at Lionel’s wide eyes and set jaw, Ginny resisted the urge to hex him straight into the hallway. It was a challenge, though. She was still so raw over what she had almost done not even thirty minutes ago; what she’d almost let him convince her to do. “I didn’t take the potion to terminate,” she explained slowly, enunciating every word and never breaking eye contact as she waited for his response. His annoyed eye rolling and groan of irritation was not unexpected but still cut to the quick of her heart. He really never gave a damn about me or what I wanted. It was all about him, Ginny thought, cursing her stupidity and eager acceptance of every gift or caress he had ever lavished on her in an attempt to disguise his true intentions towards her. A warm and willing body with no mind of her own: that was all Lionel Dresden had really wanted in his perfect woman. And in her haste to escape her pain and the wreckage she had caused for the people she had loved, she had let herself become someone she was, at her very heart, not. But Ginny was not going to blindly play his games. Not anymore. Not when she had something far more important in her life that far outweighed making Lionel happy. “Damn it, Ginny,” he cursed loudly, turning away from her in a huff of frustration. He walked out of the kitchen back towards the bedroom. She heard him moving around quickly, opening drawers and clattering things on the dresser. Ginny didn’t move from her spot. “I have to be in New York tonight for a meeting with a group of new investors,” he called back, “which means I can’t take you to another appointment until I get back next week. Smythe was supposed to have the potion brewed for you and ready to go when you got there. Why the hell didn’t you take it? It smelled bad or something? Because I gotta tell you, darling, it won’t improve in the week between now and then.” “I didn’t see Healer Smythe. I saw someone named Healer Nixon and she didn’t give me the potion because I didn’t want to take it.” The noises and shuffling in the bedroom abruptly stopped. After a deathly silent moment, Lionel reappeared in the kitchen. His thin lips were set tightly against each other and his blue eyes were ablaze with a mixture of anger and disbelief. Ginny subtly checked to make sure her wand was within reach in her back pocket, suddenly tense and nervous for a much different reason. Lionel had never once struck her physically and he didn’t have his wand with him but he did have almost six inches and about eighty pounds of hard muscle on her. She would take no chances whatsoever with her safety. “I’m sorry? What did you just say?” “You don’t need to trouble yourself with making another appointment for me to terminate the pregnancy, Lionel. I won’t do it.” She stared right into him, boring her eyes into whatever he had for a soul so there would be no confusion. “I’m keeping this child.” He shook his head in aggravation. “You and I, we decided last night that-” “You decided last night,” Ginny broke in angrily, pushing herself off the seat. “I, for some reason, didn’t put up a fight. I guess I’ve been out of practice from two years of doing whatever the hell you wanted me to do. I admit it was my choice; I don’t deny that, no matter how much I wish I could. But what happened in the past is in the past.” She put her hand back on her stomach, imploring him to understand. “This baby is here now and will stay here until she’s ready to be born.” She took a deep breath in and out, trying to force her frustration out of her body. “I hope, for the sake of all three of us, that you can find a way to accept that.” Lionel stood stock still as her word sunk in. The fire slowly faded from his eyes to morph into something almost akin to pity as he studied her. “Where is all this coming from?” he asked her quietly. He went to the couch and perched himself on the back of it. “You have your entire life in front of you to join - what the hell do you people call it? The pudding club? Having a baby will kill any future your Quidditch career has left. What’s the rush to throw all that away right now?” It was, Ginny had to admit begrudgingly, a valid point. One she hadn’t let herself think through to the end in light of the situation. From her first days as a reserve Chaser on the Harpies, it had been drilled into her relentlessly to do everything within her power to avoid a pregnancy. In Quidditch, for women at least, pregnancy was nothing more than a silent yet public declaration to retire from professional play. There was no team in any reputable league that would let a pregnant woman so much as near a locker room and after the baby came, the rigorous nearly year-round schedule of matches, practices, and travel was not conducive to childrearing. Especially if she was the only one actually raising the child. She might be able to continue on with the Harpies or another team as a trainer in hopes of someday, maybe, becoming a coach (a pipe dream under the best of circumstances) but it would mean even more hours of work and a drastic cut in her already measly salary. If she wasn’t playing, there was very little hope of gaining any type of endorsement deals. She had rebuffed numerous offers before due to Lionel’s privacy concerns for their relationship; it would have made them easier to spot together on the rare instances they were in public the more well-known she was. Now pregnant (and more than likely unmarried) she had little chance of being paid to promote the latest line in broomsticks or Quidditch gear. Looking at it from nothing more than a sheer financial standpoint, having a child right now was one of the most irrational and irresponsible things she had ever done in her life. Which was certainly saying something, considering she was once the girl who had broken into Severus Snape’s office to try and steal the Sword of Gryffindor. So why then? Why was it so important to her to completely upend her life for something she had never truly let herself consider having or wanting? You know why, she thought wisely. “Because,” Ginny replied to simply to Lionel. She glanced down at her belly and allowed herself a small fraction of a smile for a second before she faced Lionel again. “She’s here now and I’m not the same person I was before I knew she existed. Nothing in the world means as much to me as making sure she’s born healthy and strong. If that means sweeping up in hallways as a maid rather than flying through the air as a Chaser, than so be it. There is nothing you, or anyone else for that matter, can do or say that will change my mind.“ Her throat almost closed against the crushing weight of what she was about to say. “I am a mother now. And whether you like it or not, you are a father. If you can’t live up to that title, then so be it. I will find a way to raise this child by myself.” Lionel looked down at the upholstery as if in deep in thought. Finally, he looked back at her and shrugged with an air of indifference as he spoke. “Well, I’m sorry to tell you it will have to come to that. I wasn’t lying to you before when I said I had no interest in being someone’s Daddy. That hasn’t changed just because you’ve been bitten by the Mommy bug.” “Why not, Lionel?” Ginny asked, struggling to understand how he could feel that way; how anyone could feel that way about their own child. “Why are you so sure that when the baby comes that you won’t-” “Because I’m not wired like you, darling,” Lionel cut her off to stand in front of her, holding her shoulders gently. She grimaced but didn’t move away. “I don’t change who I am for other people; they change for me. That’s how whatever created this universe made me and that’s how I’m going to stay until they bury me beneath the Earth. You know that firsthand.” He gave her a leeringly charming smile and quick wink. Ginny wrenched herself away from him, disgusted. “You’re a vile pig,” she ground out from between clenched teeth. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you to begin with.” She walked over to the couch and threw herself onto the plush cushions. In the background, over the roaring in her ears, she heard him move out of the kitchen and back into the bedroom, whistling loudly to himself as he did. How dare he?! she thought, seething so much she was shocked steam wasn’t coming out of her ears. I cannot stand him! I must have been temporarily insane when we met that night! The sound of his whistling grated on her already shattered nerves until she felt like she would scream if she had to hear many more of it. If she knew what being on a rollercoaster felt like, she might have called this entire day an emotional one. And it was barely even twelve o’clock in the afternoon. She needed to escape this place and this disastrous course she had steered herself headlong into. Taking a calming breath, Ginny stood up and turned on the spot as she saw in her mind the one place in this world where she still made sense. ****** The Burrow was simply stunning in the light of the summer. Truthfully, the Burrow was perfect to Ginny in any light at any time of the year but something about her childhood home with the backdrop of the bright sun shining in a cloudless blue sky amidst scores of green trees and colorful flowers was almost enough to bring tears to Ginny’s eyes. Of course, that could be those hormones that she had heard Bill bemoan constantly during Fleur’s pregnancies. She’d have to read up on that at some point. For now all she wanted to sit at her mother’s table and be coddled in her Mum’s arms in between bites of homemade chicken soup and Yorkshire pudding. Before long, I’ll be the one offering my love through food, Ginny thought wryly as she made her way up the long pathway to the crooked house. It would help if I knew how to cook…or bake…or sing a lullaby…or change a bloody nappy… With every step she took, the tonnage of things she didn’t know about taking care of a baby slammed into her. Babies needed everything done for them and Ginny felt that she had just barely mastered living out from under her family’s protective shell. How would she do it by herself? It was impossible to learn everything she’d need to know in the next few months. Ginny loved her baby with her whole heart; loved her ferociously and without question. Love would never be an issue. But loving her child didn’t mean she knew how to care for it once it was placed in her arms. A thought formed in her mind as she walked past the row of Wellingtons propped up near the front door. It would be a blow to her pride but her options where limited at this point. Maybe I should stay here, Ginny thought, biting her lip. To do that, though, I’d have to somehow find the nerve to tell Mum I’m giving her a grandchild without a ring on my finger. Maybe if I tell her I’ll name the baby after her she won’t scream so loud that the windows will shatter... Her musings where interrupted when the front door burst open before she could place her hand on the knob. “I thought that was you I saw coming up the path,” Molly Weasley told her daughter with a joyful smile and open arms. Ginny managed to return the smile feebly before her mother pulled her in for a squeeze. Home, Ginny thought, squeezing her eyes shut as she basked in all that was right in the world. The women held each other for a long moment as Ginny struggled to keep her emotions in check. It would do no good to start sobbing against her mother’s breast like a child. Amazingly, for the first time in years, Molly let go of the hug first. She pulled back, cupping Ginny’s face in between her hands lovingly. “What on Earth are you doing here, love? I thought you’d be at practice with such a big match coming up this week. Ron says the Falcons are the team to beat this year. After the Harpies, of course.” “Oh…well Gwenog decided to give us the day off. You know, for good behavior and all that,” Ginny lied weakly as they eased into the warm, sunny kitchen. There was a huge pile of clothes sitting on the wooden table, waiting to be folded. A wave of nostalgia washed over here as she remembered her some of mother’s strange household quirks: Laundry could be washed by magic but must be folded by hand; the garden gnomes had to be taken care of manually; sweeping and dusting were done with spells except on the third Tuesday every other month so as to avoid an infestation of doxies, per Gilderoy Lockhart’s book on household charms. It was Molly Weasley’s world. Everyone else just tried to keep up with her. “Well that’s a relief. I must say, I know you love your job but to have practice all day on Sunday…” Molly sighed, picking up a jumper and snapped it in front of her. Ginny followed suit, heading right for the socks. “In my day, we knew and valued the importance of spending time with one’s family.” Ginny’s face burned as she remembered lying about having to practice in order to skip a Sunday lunch only yesterday. Not the smartest move on her part but what was she to do? Go to the Burrow and whip up a pregnancy potion in the bathroom while her family sat right outside the door? That would have gone over well, especially with her brothers. It wasn’t just the pregnancy test, Ginny thought morosely, fingering the darned heel of one of her father’s wool socks. Doesn’t matter if I was going to try to bake a tart yesterday for lunch. When it came down to it, I would have found another excuse to not come. I hardly make time for them anymore. That’s why she’s so put out. Lionel was part of the reason, no doubt, but he isn’t why I really stay away. I miss seeing everyone all the time but the more I stay away, the easier it is for Har- Her spine tingled uncomfortably as she acknowledged the unspoken truth: She stayed away so Harry wouldn’t have to lose all he had ever had for family. As much as she loathed Lionel, foisting the estrangement she felt from her family solely on his shoulders wasn’t fair. She still saw her parents and her brothers; on holidays and the occasional family lunch or dinner. Ron had even been coming to some of her matches this past year, dragging Hermione along with him. All these years later and Hermione would still rather spend the day reading than having anything to do with Quidditch. But she was still Ginny’s friend (for some reason) so she came to offer her limited support. There wasn’t any huge argument or a grudge between her and the rest of her family. They loved her as she loved them. But she purposefully kept her distance so Harry wouldn’t feel out of place among her family. They hadn’t seen each other or been in contact since she had ended their relationship, which was both ideal and miserable. She caught occasional glimpses of him in the wizarding press (mostly with that perfectly lovely blonde witch Ginny refused to acknowledge by name) and heard secondhand stories about him on the rare instances she was with her family. According to what Hermione had been telling her for the past year or so, Harry didn’t even seem to hate her. Last Christmas, she had felt like a Bludger had knocked the wind out of her when Hermione told her that Harry had made a point to have Hermione wish Ginny a happy holiday. “He’s doing really well,” Hermione had told her cautiously after Ginny managed to ask how he was. “He still keeps too much distance between us, living off on his own the way he does, but he writes almost every day. We have lunch together at work a few times a week. He seems really settled and…I suppose ‘content’ is the right word.” Content was another word for happy. He was happy without her. She should be overjoyed; it was exactly what she had wished for him. Curious thing it is, though. To get precisely what one wished for. Harry had happiness and she had the pleasure of endlessly disappointing her family. “I’m sorry about that, Mum,” she said quietly, her words weighted with hidden meaning she hoped her mother understood. She kept her eyes focused on the socks she was bundling into pairs. “It just…it just couldn’t be helped.” The older woman nodded sagely. “Sweetheart, I understand that you have your own life to lead. We all do. I’d never try to deny you that. But you also have a family that loves you and worries about you. We don’t see you enough anymore. Not since you…” Molly trailed off, smiling sadly and refusing to finish her thought out loud, which mutely infuriated Ginny. The two women folded in silence for a few moments. Not since I what? Ginny thought pensively as the pile of fabric shrunk slowly. Not since I started shacking up with the new He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Not since I entered into a profession the lot of you thinks is too trivial to be a part of when there was an entire Ministry to rebuild? Not since I took Harry’s heart and treated it like it was an earwax flavor of Bertie Bott’s Beans? Not since I showed you all what a wretched excuse for a daughter and sister I really am? The tears pricked behind her eyes. Ginny felt like throwing every stitch of clothing on the table across the room or crying until she dissolved into the floorboards. This is going to be a fantastic seven or eight months, it really is. Her mother’s hushed gasp startled her and she lifted her head to look at her mother’s brightly smiling face. “I just remembered. It’s actually such a blessing that you came here today. Your father and I were going to try and have you and your…gentleman over for supper this week to share the news. We told everyone else yesterday. None of your brothers told you, did they?” Ginny shook her head, her confusion mounting. “Good. It’s the most wonderful thing. Truth be told I still can’t believe it happened. After all the years your father has put into the Ministry, to finally have them recognize all his hard work is just…” Molly reached across the table and planted a kiss on Ginny’s forehead in excitement and let out an undignified squeak, unable to contain her glee. Ginny let her, a small smile breaking out on her own face, distracting her from her earlier annoyance. She honestly couldn’t remember the last time her mother had looked fit to burst with joy. Maybe when little Victoire had been born a year after the War had ended. And for it to apparently involve her father’s job, after all his years plugging away in one of the Ministry’s least valued departments. “Did Dad get a promotion or raise?” she asked. “No, something even better. He’s been asked by Minister Shacklebolt to participate in a series of conferences designed to further strengthen relations between Magical and Muggle governments all over the world. The Minister said that your father’s enthusiasm for improving our relations with Muggles over the years has made him a perfect candidate to help represent wizards and witches.” “Oh Mum, that’s fantastic!” “Isn’t it? And Hermione is going as well; being raised by Muggles, she’ll offer a unique perspective to whole thing. Though she won’t be involved as much as your father, having less seniority in the Ministry and all. She and Ron will only be attending a handful of the international conferences whereas your father and I will be spending the whole year abroad spreading goodwill and seeing the Muggle sights. It’ll be the honeymoon we never managed to take. You know, Harry spends a fair amount of time in America lately and he mentioned that there are…” Ginny froze with a purple sock in one hand and checkered red one in the other. She hadn’t heard that right. Certainly, not when she so desperately needed them, her mother and father weren’t going to be gone for- “A year?” she whispered, stunned. “You and Dad will be gone a whole…a whole year?” Molly nodded happily, folding pants and swaying slightly as if she were dancing to a tune only she could hear. “It’s so exciting! To finally see the world itself and not just through pictures in a book! And you lot don’t need to worry about keeping up the house while we’re gone. We know you all have homes of your own to manage without worrying about this one. There’s a young man, newly married, in your father’s department that’s going to stay here and maintain the place with his wife. They’ll pay a small rent and Percy will check in with them from time to time. They’re moving in at the end of next week right after we’ve left. Everything’s all taken care of.” Molly picked up her pile of clothes and put them in the wicker basket on the rickety seat next her, the smile never leaving her face. Across from her, Ginny was still dumbly holding the purple sock and the checkered one. “Dear, are you all right?” she asked Ginny with concern as her brown eyes crinkled in confusion. Ginny snapped her head up to attention and looked straight into the eyes exactly like her own. Words bubbled inside her throat, trying to escape, but she didn’t know where to begin. What was she supposed to say right now? Well Mum, I think it’s great that Dad got offered such an exciting opportunity for the two of you but I don’t think you should go gallivanting all across the world for a year because I just found out that I’m having a baby; that I hold a higher opinion of moldy sewage than I do for the father of said baby; that the only job I’ve ever wanted is no longer an option for me; and that my entire life has completely gone round the bend in the span of the day so I really think it’s a good idea if you and Dad stay here and help me sort it all out before I go cross-eyed! Perhaps a bit too much on the nose. “It’s selfish, isn’t it?” Molly suddenly asked Ginny. A hint of shame marred her aging yet lovely features. Ginny blinked in bewilderment as she slowly put the forgotten socks back on the table. Selfish? How did her mother even know what that word meant? “What are you talking about, Mum?” Molly pulled put her wand and waved it; in a flash, the rest of the clothes on the table disappeared from sight. She sat down at the scuffed, well-loved table and motioned for Ginny to do the same. “To leave you and your brothers for so long. You seven-” Molly shut her eyes and paused to collect herself. Ginny remained silent. Even so many years later, Fred was still with her - with all of them really. But he was Molly’s baby and even death couldn’t change that. Ginny was only just on the fringes of beginning to understand that. She reached across to give her mother’s hand a gentle squeeze until Molly continued. “I mean, you six are all so capable that I forgot that we’re still needed: Bill and Fleur are still trying to learn to cope with the girls and baby Louis; Charlie risks his life everyday tending to those rabid beasts and he has no one in his life to share it with; Percy still has so much guilt for his behavior during the War; Georgie…George goes off and spends hours at a time sitting by Fred’s grave without telling anyone; Ron doesn’t have it in him anymore to be an Auror. He wants to help run the shop with your brother but he’s so afraid of disappointing his best friend if he leaves.” She reached over to brush Ginny’s hair behind her ear before tweaking her nose playfully. “And you, my dear girl. You are more brilliant and bold than any witch I’ve come across in my days but sometimes I think you don’t have quite the firm grip on your life as you’d have us believe that you do. Maybe your father and I should reconsider going.” “No,” Ginny said immediately, her tone leaving no room for argument. Her mother raised her eyebrows to her hairline but didn’t speak. Ginny’s life would be easier if her parents stayed in England. They’d help her; take her and her baby in and help care for her little girl while she found a job and got herself upright again. There’d be an ungodly amount of lectures from her mother but eventually all would be forgiven. Because Ginny was their daughter and they loved her. But it wouldn’t be fair to them to make them sacrifice for her choices. After all the years they’d given to their family, Arthur and Molly Weasley had a right to time for just the two of them. Time for their own adventures and time for their own love to blossom unabashed without any distractions to shade it. Even if it did nothing to remedy her own predicament, her parents were going to take this trip and that was that. “First of all, think of all the fun that Dad will have being around so many Muggles for a year,” Ginny said, smiling softly until her mother mirrored her. “He’ll be like a child who’s been given the run of Honeydukes. It’ll be impossible to contain him! And imagine all the exotic food you’ll get to try and all the new recipes you learn; all the stories you can tell us and your grandchildren for years to come when you finally come home; all the good Dad can do by working with other governments; all the sunrises and sunsets you’ll get to see all over the world. There are owls and Floos if anything happens here. At worst, you can Apparate home in an emergency. But you are going and that is final.” She furrowed her eyes sternly at her mother but kept the loving smile on her face. “And if I ever hear you call yourself selfish again, I don’t know what I’ll do with you. I could use a million different words to describe you and selfish would not be one of them. There is nothing of your mind, body, and heart that you have not given to me and the boys all of our lives. You’re entitled to something for yourself. How many scrapes did you kiss better and how many cool washcloths did you press on clammy foreheads over the years? How many nightmares did you soothe and how many well-deserved swats on the behind did you hand out? And you know what else? Every single meal we ever ate growing up was prepared by you. Think of all that cooking for that many children. I don’t think I’d be able to do that every breakfast, lunch, and dinner even if I only had one child.” She said it with a wistful smile and chuckle but her stomach was clenched tightly. How am I going to feed this kid when my milk runs dry? she thought, only halfway joking as a dull panic began to set in yet again. Even with all those gadgets in the apartment, I still order takeaway five nights out the week. It was dangerous path for her mind to tread on but like so many other times in her life, Molly saved her from herself. “Cooking spells are some of the easiest to master if you put the time into learning them,” she explained to Ginny, who, unbeknownst to Molly, was sitting at rapt attention. “And if every meal isn’t perfect, than so be it. That might not be what your children will hound you for. Knowing you, they’ll want to be up in the air with their Mummy as soon as the sun rises and stay up there until the moon comes out. Or they’ll want stories from you.” Molly smiled fondly, her eyes drifting back in time. “When you were little, you would line up all your dolls and stuffed bears and tell these elaborate stories to them. You’d wave your arms around or use different voices or march about in front of them until you fell asleep on the floor. I’d bet a hundred Galleons that when you have children, you’ll be in charge of bedtime stories.” “Really?” She bit her lip and looked down, hiding behind her hair. This was the opinion she wanted more than anyone else‘s but her Mum could still give an answer that would break her heart. “Do you…you think that I’ll be a good mother? Someday?” Molly pulled her daughter’s chin up with her fingers and made Ginny look right at her as she answered. “There is not one doubt in my mind of that, Ginevra.” ***** Later, after staying until almost eleven o’clock at night to visit with her father and mother, Ginny walked backed down the path to the gates to Apparate home after making plans to see them off next week with the rest of the family. Her thoughts were teetering between happiness for her parents and undeserving pity for herself. She hadn’t told them about the baby. If she did, there was no chance that they’d leave for their trip. Someday, after they left, she’d find the nerve to jot the news of their impending grandchild onto a letter for them. Her mother would go barmy but so be it. She could only pray that there was some measure of order to her life then so she could tell her parents to enjoy the rest of their long overdue vacation and not beg them to come home. But that was for the future far from now. The only future Ginny could envision was one that included a hot bath and, for some reason, a jar of peanut butter and a spoon. Rubbing her tired face, Ginny reached the gate and Apparated home. Instead of finding herself in the spacious bathroom as she had envisioned, she found herself in the lobby of her apartment building. What on Earth? she thought, looking around the nearly empty lobby. The only person she could see from the Apparition point behind two large ferns was the scrawny, acne-ridden bellhop sitting at the front desk, his dark green uniform blending perfectly with the walls and carpet. Shaking her head, she counted to three and focused all her energy on her apartment before she turned. She felt the beginning squeeze that was normal for Apparition but it stopped almost immediately. Opening her eyes, she found she was still standing in the lobby. Something was wrong. There were no stairs or working elevators in the building; it was strictly magical. The bellhop was a Squib who was there to assist the tenants with heavy loads or steer unsuspecting Muggles who wandered in back to the street. In all her months here, she had never even learned the young man’s name. “Excuse me, sir?” she said as she approached the bellhop at his desk. He looked up at her from his copy of The Evening Prophet with bulging eyes; a thin sheen of sweat broke out on his nearly maroon forehead. From they way he looked at her, it was almost like he had been expecting her. “I’m sorry to disturb you but I was hoping you could assist me. For some reason, I can’t Apparate into my apartment and I need to know if perhaps there’s an emergency Portkey or something that can get me inside?” The nervous man cleared his throat before he haltingly replied, “I, um, I have a note for you, Ms. Weasley. From Mr. Dresden. He asked that you receive it should you come back here tonight.” With a trembling hand, he handed her the piece of parchment. “And also these.” He placed a large green duffel bag with a faded Harpies logo embroidered on the front of it on the desk followed by her beloved Firebolt. (The broom was a gift from her parents when she came of age) “Please…please have a pleasant evening, miss.” Turning swiftly, the bellhop disappeared into a small office before Ginny could grasp what was happening. Setting aside the letter for the moment, she unzipped her old bag and dug through. She found several items of clothing she hadn’t worn in some time along with a few toiletries and her Quidditch gear. A few books, photographs, and her more modest pieces of jewelry lay inside as well. The bag had been charmed to hold much more than it appeared to from the outside. Her fingers shaking, she picked up the parchment and read through the hastily scribbled lines, her ire rising with every word. When she finished, she crumbled the parchment in her hand as she trembled, enraged beyond all reason. That evil, foul, Slytherin-to-the-core bastard! she thought mutinously as cast a quick Shrinking Charm on her broom and stuffed it into her bag. She gathered her belongs and marched back to the Apparition point. Taking a breath to try and steady herself, she turned with full arms and a single focus to launch an Unforgivable curse right at Lionel Dresden’s head. Pellets of rain poured down from the sky and smacked her in the face when she opened her eyes again. The pungent odor of trash and takeaway food assaulted her and she had to double over for a moment to make sure the contents of her stomach stayed where they belonged. The alleyway of the Meridian Hotel in downtown Manhattan was not an ideal Apparition point but as the establishment catered to Muggles and a select few of the wizarding population, it was necessary. The hotel it was private, not the first place one would look for a high-profile potion maker, which was why Lionel always stayed there when he was in New York. Pushing her already sopping wet hair out of her face, she stalked out of the alley onto the busy sidewalk, quickly rounding the corner and entering the posh hotel lobby, crowded with people. A dozen or so inquiring eyes fastened onto her as she strode towards the front desk, with her long sundress soaked to her skin and sandals squishing noisily into the plush navy carpet but she was too enraged to care. She had just reached the massive mahogany desk when something caught the corner of her eye. Lionel, who only two days ago she had thought of with nothing but affection, was standing by a large marble statue near the elevators, next to a willowy brunette in a skintight lavender dress that left very little to the imagination. He was laughing heartily and leaning down to whisper something into the woman’s ear as they waited for the doors to open. Ginny was fortunate that she knew the stories of what Azkaban was like from Ron and from Harry. Otherwise, she would not have hesitated to launch a Cruciatus Curse at his grinning figure. Somehow, he managed to pull himself away from his companion when he spotted Ginny; he stared, seemingly unsurprised and unperturbed to see her dripping wet and shaking with rage across the room from him. When the elevator opened, he whispered something else to the young woman and nipped none too subtly at her neck before leaving her to walk up to Ginny. The expression he gave her shifted to annoyance, as if Ginny were keeping him from something very important. “Let’s go talk in the bar,” he said in a low voice, brushing past her. She waited until they were seated across from each other in a dark, secluded corner of the bar. “I have never in my life wanted to kill another human being as much as I want to kill you right now,” she whispered menacingly. “And I’ve fought against Death Eaters who murdered my friends and family! You are just the most-” “What exactly?” He leaned back in his chair casually, signaling for the waiter and ordering a vodka tonic for himself. “Would you like anything?” Ginny could only stare at him, mouth agape. He was truly the center of his own world. “You kicked me out of my apartment,” she said, her teeth nearly clamped shut. “Left me with only a handful of clothes and a toothbrush. You did that to the woman carrying your child, you son-” The waiter came back and sat Lionel’s drink in front of him. Lionel took a quick sip and rolled his eyes, stifling a grin as if he found the whole situation amusing. “Let’s get the facts straight, darling. That apartment was never yours; my name and mine alone is on all the paperwork and you never paid any of the rent on it. I rightfully returned everything that you brought with you into that apartment and kept everything that you bought or was bought for you with my money.” He shook his head at her, gesturing flippantly at her stomach. “I told you, clear as day, that I wasn’t going to support you in this. If you want to go on with it, that’s entirely up to you. But don’t think for one second that you’re going to take care of yourself and the little rug rat on my dime.” Ginny seethed. The words flew out of her mouth without restraint. “Do you think I will let you get away with this? Fine, I’ll move out of the apartment that you only bother to use a few days out of the month if it will please you so. But what you won’t give this child with your time or whatever meager amount of love you have, you will make up for with financial support. A few months ago, I remember my friend, Hermione, telling me about certain laws she was studying in her department at the Ministry. Laws that make it a crime for a man to deny support for a child he fathered!” Lionel studied her carefully as he spoke. “It’s only a crime if the mother demands the financial support. But if she were to say, I don’t know, sign a piece of parchment that absolves the alleged father of any monetary obligations, it’s a non issue.” “And what makes you think that I would ever sign such a piece of parchment?” Lionel glanced around the nearly empty room; it was early evening in New York so the bar had few customers. The air between them changed faintly, caution overpowering the anger she felt towards him. Something was happening. Something troubling, beyond Ginny’s limited control. He leaned forward slightly, the small smirk melting off his face, and motioned for Ginny to do the same. “Because if you don’t,” he said, dropping his voice low, “people that you love will suffer greatly.” Laughter was brewing in her chest at the ridiculous statement he had just made but the seriousness residing in his blue eyes quelled it. “What in Godric’s name are you talking about? My father and two of my brothers work for the Ministry of Magic; if any harm came to a member of my family, then-” “Not physical harm,” he corrected, reaching into his jacket pocket. From it, he pulled out a roll of parchment and a small vial filled with an orange-hued liquid. He set them beside one another on the middle of the small table. “What are those?” Ginny asked, her anxiety rising as she stared down at the mystery items. “That,” Lionel indicated the parchment, “is the contract you will sign that will prevent you from revealing my identity as the biological father, making it impossible to demand any type of child support from me. And that,” he nodded towards the innocuous vial, “is the reason that you’ll sign it. “America never fought in your great war with Voldermort; it never seemed in our interest but we couldn’t discount the possibility that ya’ll would lose. The higher ups in the American wizarding government came to me after it was confirmed that Voldermort had reasserted himself in the world. They had me develop a potion we’d have ready to use if he and his followers should make their way to our shores. We called it UT - short for ‘Ultimate Truth’. It’s the most potent truth serum on the market; no secret can be kept when a person takes this little beauty. What makes it so unique and effective, though, is that it puts the recipient into a complete state of dreamless sleep. They have no recollection of taking it or of having their memories extracted from their subconscious while under its influence. American operatives could simply collect whatever information they needed from the prisoner and send them back out into the world, allowing no suspicion to arise whatsoever from a sudden disappearance.” Ginny felt cemented to her seat as his words registered. Her stomach rocked and rolled like waves in a stormy sea, the realization paralyzing her. “You…you gave that to me,” she whispered breathlessly, her words choked as her vision blurred. “My mem-you stole my memories from me to use…? What…what did you se-see?” “Enough,” he said simply. “Enough to cost people in your family their jobs as well as a fair amount of heartache: George’s drinking binges will make it difficult for parents to want their children to buy from his store. Ron’s panic attacks are surely cause for concern, considering his dangerous job. I doubt his wife knows much about that drunken little fling you caught Billy boy with at the World Cup three years ago or that she’d be pleased to learn of it, no matter that it was a one-time thing he‘s regretted ever since. Much like Percy’s superiors would be displeased if they knew he was already seeing his soon-to-be fiancé before she transferred out of his department and out from under his supervision. “But those are not the worst stories that will come out if you don’t sign.” Oddly, the smile he gave her was eerily sympathetic. “If the public were ever to find out some of the things that The Boy Who Lived did during and after the war…it would shock them into a stupor.” Ginny shivered, barely suppressing the urge to vomit all over the table. Visions of all the things Harry had told her about the War and the things he had done to certain Death Eaters after their capture popped into her mind. Harry was a good man at his core but he was not perfect and some of the things he had done during a very select few arrests and interrogations were…unsettling, to say the least. She believed in her heart that every last Death Eater deserved much worse than some of the spells Harry had inflicted on them in his anger; if it had been anyone other than Harry Potter, the public would have shared her view had they learned of it. But it was Harry Potter and the tabloids would have a field day sullying the saint-like image of the young man who had defeated perhaps the most evil living creature ever to have lived. Ginny would not let that happen. She’d find a way to care for her baby. If need be, she’d beg on the street for money - she’d sell her own body if she had to. But she would not let Harry be destroyed because she had foolishly put her trust in a man unworthy of it. “Do you have a quill?” she finally asked a moment later, resigned to the fate she had given herself. Lionel promptly passed one to her, as well as a small vial of ink, while she carefully unrolled the parchment, trying to avoid getting it wet. “It’s fairly straightforward: my rights are terminated and you do not confirm to anyone that I am the biological father. The memories I took from you will remain locked in a secure vault at the American branch of Gringotts here in New York. They have a self-destroy charm that will take effect when the child reaches seventeen, when I’m free and clear of any financial support obligations, or if the child dies before that time. If it is confirmed by you that I am the biological father to anyone, the staff of Gringotts has strict instructions to release the memories to various news organizations; this also applies should I die before the child turns seventeen and you confirm my identity to anyone.” “What about my family? They know we were together, they’ll ask questions when they find out I’m pregnant. And the healer I saw today. She knows your name.” “They can speculate all they want; anyone can so long as you don’t confirm their speculations. You can even tell them why you can’t if it’ll make you feel better. Just wait seventeen years before you tell anyone the truth. As for the healer, she’s bound by oath not to reveal information about her patients. I doubt she’ll spill the beans to anyone.” Ginny’s eyes carefully read over the magical contract; similar to an Unbreakable Vow, the effects of breaking the contract were immediate and irreversible. It was all as he had described it to be. All it required was her signature to take effect. She laughed quietly and without mirth. “I can’t even tell my own child who her father is until she’s an adult,” she said to herself as she reached for the quill. “Do you really want her to know what a miserable bastard her old man is before she’s old enough to handle it?” “No,” she replied, not even looking up as she signed her name; Ginny viciously stabbed the dot of the ‘i’ in her name. She shoved the parchment at him before she stood on rubbery legs, picking up her things to leave. Right as she turned to leave, she looked down at him; Lionel was tucking the parchment away and finishing the last of his drink as if he had just ended a meeting or dinner with an acquaintance. He looked in a hurry to get back to whomever was waiting for him up in his room. “It really doesn’t bother you, does it?” Ginny asked him incredulously. “Using me, the way that you did, all these years and casting us aside as if we were a hunk of stale cheese?” Lionel stood and shrugged, leaving a few paper bills on the table to pay for his drink. “Well, let me answer your question with one of my own: Did it bother you, using me the way that you did, all these years so you didn’t have to think about the fact that you weren’t with the man you really loved?” Her face burned until it was almost the color of her hair but she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing anymore tears fall from her eyes. “Goodbye Lionel,” she said, never taking her eyes off of him. She stopped and cleared her throat before finally saying, “And sincerely, thank you.” “For what?” “For my daughter.” Not waiting for or expecting a reply, she walked out of the bar with her head held high in the sky. She kept walking that way, out of the lobby and the front entrance of the hotel, until she hit the street, the rain still cascading down in torrents. There, her shoulders slumped against both the downpour that soaked through her yet again and the weight of what had just happened; what her future now entailed. Her life would never be the same but somehow, even amidst all the pain and humiliation, she knew that she was doing the right thing. She lowered her chin to her breastbone, not caring who saw or heard her. It wasn’t likely she’d ever be in this swanky neighborhood again. “At least you and I will have each other as Mummy muddles through this,” she whispered in the direction of her stomach. Her musings were interrupted as her shoulder made contact with something solid, almost knocking her to the ground. “Excuse me,” she said without looking up at whomever she bumped into, eager to get back to England and find someplace to stay for the night. The hour would be late at home but the Leaky Cauldron should still be open; hopefully Hannah wouldn’t mind if she couldn’t pay for a room until the next morning. “Ginny?” She had already taken a few steps away when she heard her name said. Her feet locked in place and she couldn’t move, despite the rain that was chilling her bones on the otherwise warm evening. It’s not possible, she thought numbly as her eyes widened in recognition of the voice. The voice she had heard so often in her dreams. Her mind had to remind her lungs and she sucked in a noisy breath. There’s no way that when I turn around I’ll see… Slowly, as if she were a figurine on one of Hermione’s music boxes, she turned on her heels to face the opposite direction. The umbrella he carried shielded him from the onslaught of rain. His black trousers matched his stylish sport coat and loafers; his white button-down shirt was spotless and he had forgone wearing a tie. (He hated them; long ago, he said they reminded him of his troll of an uncle) The frames he wore were newer, sleeker than year’s past and his hair was bit shorter but still sticking up every which way. The famous scar had faded with time but the brightness of his emerald eyes was exactly as she remembered from three years ago, even twenty feet away and shrouded by the rain. Her mind took him in but it didn’t fully process what she was seeing until he started walking towards her: Harry Potter. |
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